Friends Forever
by OmoMeowth
Summary: After receiving some life changing news, Mike's outlook on the world around him changes significantly. This is the story of how he questions everything he once thought was true, and the measures he is willing to take to maintain his self-respect.
1. The Doctors Office

Friends Forever

The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, all the while the neighborhood of Roseville was slowly coming to life. At least it would have been if it were any other day than a Saturday, but with so few getting up for work or school, Mike found himself one of the poor souls with a reason to awaken on this beautiful day.

Mike slammed down on his clock radio, silencing the earsplitting beeping coming from its speakers. As he slowly pried his eyes open, he was greeted by the subtle light of the new day pouring in through the cracks of his blinds. He peered at the clock radio, seeing 8:00am across the digital surface. He slowly crawled out of his bed and headed for his bathroom to begin his morning routine. With a slow apathetic creep, Mike completed his morning chores of hygiene and comfort and then headed down the stairs, this time with a bit more perk in his step, now expecting a much needed breakfast.

Upon reaching the bottom Mike headed straight for his kitchen. He was slightly disappointed to find that his mom had not yet started breakfast, since it would be a few hours until his sister woke up, so he would have to make do with what was at his disposal. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a box of cereal from within. Before he even managed to the set the box on the counter, his mom interrupted him.

"Michael, what do you think you're doing with that box of cereal?" His mom asked with a typical maternal tone of voice.

"I was… going to eat it?" Mike responded slightly confused at the question.

"Think again." His mom said looking for something in her purse. "Don't tell me you already forgot why you woke up so early."

"I didn't forget!" Mike said just a little too defensively. "We're going to see the doctor." Mike said almost proud of one upping his mother.

"Yep, and you're getting blood taken, so no breakfast." His mother said catching Mike slightly off guard.

"Oh." Mike said slightly disappointed. "I was really hungry too…"

"Don't worry, we'll stop and pick something up on the way home, _if _you're a good boy." Mike's mother said with an almost patronizing tone.

"Really, mom…" Mike said, hardly pleased with the joke.

"Ha ha, don't worry, I was just kidding." His mother said laughing, clearly the only one deriving pleasure from the friendly ribbing.

"So what time is the appointment?" Mike asked unable to get his mind off of his breakfast.

"It's at nine o'clock. We'll need to leave soon; hurry up and finish getting ready." His mother said still distracted by the loose item in her purse.

"I already am ready; you're the one who needs to finish getting ready." Mike said with a dull expression on his face.

"Potato patato, Mike," his mother responded as she began to ascended the steps in the household.

"But wait, that doesn't make any-"Mike began, but his mother had already walked away. Mike simply sighed and sat down at the kitchen table, resting his chin in his hands, and thinking about what his friends were doing. Then it dawned on him, they were all probably sleeping.

Within a few minutes his mother was all ready to leave, so they headed out the door and began their drive to the doctor's office. There was little said between Mike and his mother on the ride there. There was no bad blood between them, but since Mike often felt his mom treated him too immaturely, he found himself, much to his mother's discontent, relatively quiet around her. Granted they did converse enough around the house, it was typically standard conversation. For the most part though, Mike kept his private life to himself. He didn't need his mom for emotional support anyway, since he was much more stable than most people he knew, including his friends.

When they finally arrived at the doctor's office they both walked in, seeing a large sum of people taking up all the chairs. Mike cursed in his head. Not necessarily because the chairs were all occupied, but because all of those people had gotten here first, which meant it was going to be a long wait.

"Just in time," his mother said almost ironically looking at her thin wrist watch. The same watch that his sister had gotten her for Christmas last year. Mike couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealously whenever he looked at the watch, because all he had gotten her that year was a card. His mother gave him a quick smile as they stood awkwardly in the doctor's office. It wasn't long until someone was called back, but sadly it was only a single individual so only one seat had opened up. To be polite, his mother had offered him the seat, but of course Mike insisted she take it. He didn't really want to sit down, but even if he did, he probably would have given it to her anyway.

That person had only taken maybe five minutes until they left, most likely getting blood drawn like Mike. That was when another individual had gotten called back. While there was indeed a seat left for him to take, it was in between his mother and another fairly overweight man. Mike decided to keep standing, but his mom whispered to him, telling him there was a seat available as if somehow he hadn't noticed. Mike simply gave her a slight waving sign telling her that he was fine, since he didn't want to break the almost unnatural silence in the room full of people; people he couldn't help but feel were looking at him, the only person standing. Of course, much to his discord, his mother insisted upon him sitting down. Although Mike had no urge to sit down, he now felt he had no choice. If he continued to decline he might offend the overweight man, as well as his mother. So Mike took a seat and was a little relived since there seemed to be more room available than he had first taken notice to. At first, Mike was very annoyed at what his mother had done, putting him in a position like that, even though his mom probably hadn't even realized she had done it, but after awhile he was quite glad he listened, since he soon found himself much more comfortable sitting.

A couple of minutes later he saw a lady walk in with what appeared to be a child around the age of four. At first Mike thought nothing of it, but he soon found himself in an awkward position. When he had arrived, there had been only three men in the room, him, the overweight man, and another adult. The other adult had been called back within the last few minutes, so only he and the overweight man remained. Given the overweight man's heavy breathing, Mike was the obvious candidate to offer the madam a seat. Mike hated situations like these because they made him feel extremely uncomfortable. While his conscious reasoned with him and told him to stand up and offer the seat to the lady, he couldn't get over the awkward feeling of doing it. He knew people would look at him and think "What a gentleman," but was also a little worried that might look at him and see a loser or a typical chauvinistic white knight right out of a medieval fantasy book. So he sat there, trying to look as though he hadn't noticed the ladies presence, as his inner self screamed at him to be a man. Luckily, the other man had emerged from the heavy door that separated him from the doctor, thus causing another individual to be called back. The lady took the seat as soon as it became available. Although Mike didn't look up to check, he felt like the lady had given him a glance, a glance that said "This is what the world has come too." Maybe it was just his paranoia.

As seconds turned into minutes, and the patients slowly began to disappear, Mike slowly began to doze off. It wasn't long at all until he was woken up by his mother. It was then he realized that he had fallen asleep and somehow ended up with his head up against the overweight man. Mike quickly readjusted his head. Suddenly back to being extremely uncomfortable, Mike sat staring at his hands that were rested on his lap. After that he wasn't too worried about anymore accidental naps since he couldn't have gone back to sleep if he tried.

Much to Mike's irritation, he found that they had apparently arrived directly after the overweight man, since he was the last called in, and only to add to Mike's ever-growing anxiety, he couldn't help but look around the doctor's office, seeing no one except the woman he had failed to offer his seat to earlier, still waiting. She had been the only other person to arrive since he had entered the original mass of people. The irony of the situation aggravated him to no end. After about ten minutes of waiting on the overweight man, Mike began to become antsy. What could possibly be taking so long? Chances were he was probably just getting blood drawn anyway. Then again, he probably had plenty of questions regarding all the things he was at risk of, such as diabetes, heart disease, and the various brands of cancer that come with eating yourself to death. Typically, Mike tried not to have such offensive thoughts, but he was getting quite annoyed at being in this doctor's office, so he figured he could be sorry about it later.

Finally, the overweight man left the doctor's office with a fire and speed that could only be described as rubbing two sticks together and Mike was called in. Although still tired and hungry, Mike's disposition quickly changed. He was in a good mood because he had gotten called back, and knew that he was one step closer to getting out of this depressing prison. As he walked through the large door with his mother he was greeted by a large hallway, and was lead into a small room towards the end of the building by a nurse. The doctor was quick and precise, much to his pleasure, and after exchanging a quick greeting handed him a bottle and pushed him in the direction of the bathroom. Although Mike certainly was not in any particular need for the bathroom, given he had not eaten nor drank anything beforehand, he did his best to supply a reasonable amount of urine. He placed the cup of urine into a small wall cubby that had a large sign reading "PLACE URINE IN HERE. DOCTOR WILL COLLECT THEM," right next to another cup of urine tinged with the color red. Mike had wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness that was the sign, but he soon found himself wanting to squirm at the sight of the unhealthy urine (most likely produced by the overweight man).

After washing his hands, Mike emerged from the bathroom, only to see the doctor fiddling with some forms.

"Please take a seat, Michael." The old woman said, pointing to a black chair. A chair painted black by the tears of the forsaken children who hated it so. The chair specifically made to suspend your arm for when they took blood or administered shots. No longer in any hurry to continue his visit, he sat in the chair, trying to hide his displeasure from both his mom, as well as the doctor (who seemed to be paying him no mind).

"Now don't worry Michael, this won't hurt that bad." His mother said, sensing his nervousness, and knowing about his mild fear of needles.

"I know, mom." Mike said almost monotone.

"It will only be a pinch, and it will be over in a few seconds." His mother said continuing.

"I know, mom."

"He's terrified of needles." His mother gabbed to the doctor.

"I am not terrified of needles!" Mike said rather annoyed at his mother's character damaging social faux pas. "I just don't like them, like _most _people."

"Alright, alright, forget I said anything." His mom said in a tone that somehow made him look bad.

Mike simply sighed at the embarrassment his mother was causing him. Shortly after the mild confrontation with his mother, Mike's doctor walked over to him.

"Don't worry; this won't hurt much at all." The doctor said as she took his arm and stretched it out.

"Okay." Mike said slightly embarrassed at his stomach, which had made a loud growling noise in response.

"Don't worry, I'll make this quick." His doctor said laughing.

The doctor tied off his arm, found a vein, and began to fiddle with the syringe. As soon as Mike saw the needle, his eyes widened. The initial shock of seeing it, knowing it was going to be shoved in his skin; he seemed unable to get over it. She approached his arm with the sharp point and he closed his eyes. He felt a slight pinching sensation that slowly got worse and worse as the needle remained in his arm. At first it wasn't too bad, but within a few seconds it began to feel like the needle was going to come out the other end. Luckily, the blood drawing only lasted a few seconds, and Mike opened his eyes to see a vial of his blood resting on a towel covered in empty, labeled bottles. The doctor covered the small wound with a cotton ball, and held it down with an adhesive strip.

Mike and his mother left the doctor's office, breathing in the fresh, outside air, even if the heat was somewhat stifling.

"So, where should we go to eat?" Mike's mother asked him.

"Probably the closest place we can find." Mike said as he attempted to lift his arms up to hold them behind his head, but quickly stopped by a slight pain from where he had gotten the blood taken.

They made their way to the car, both climbing inside and both taken aback by the outstanding amount of heat that had accumulated inside.

"So Michael," his mom began as she blinked her rapidly drying eyes. "How is school going?"

"Oh, it's going alright, Same ol', same ol'." Mike responded.

"I assume you're still getting high grades?" Mike's mom asked curiously.

"Yeah," Mike answered.

"Oh, that's good to hear. Has anything interesting happened at school?" She asked trying to start up a conversation.

"Uhh, not really. Well, actually, I remember something that was kinda funny in English." Mike said with a slight bit more enthusiasm.

Mike's mother sat in the car listening intently as her son told his story. While Mike was eager to get to their next destination, his mother felt as though they were already there.


	2. Abnormality

Chapter 2: Abnormality

"Only two more days until Friday," Mike said making small talk with Lucy as they walked home.

"Yeah, about time, this week has sucked." Lucy replied.

"I know what you mean. It's just always the same thing over and over again…" Mike said a tad exhausted.

"If only we could fast forward through all the crap." Lucy said with a sigh.

"What do you mean?" Mike asked her a touch confused.

"You know, skip the B.S. and get straight to the good part. Life is like a movie with two hours of previews and five minutes of actual movie. By the time the previews are over, you enjoy a little movie, and you repeat. In the end, you spend all of your time waiting! Not to mention when you sit there, only to realize the movie sucked, so then you repeat it all again, praying that you actually have something good to look forward too!" Lucy said as her anger slowly grew within her.

"But, if you took away the previews life would suck." Mike replied.

"And how is that?"

"Because if you had nothing but life, then life would get boring. You know how you said that you wait all that time to see a bad movie? What if you spent all of your time watching movies? Eventually they'll become boring and you won't get any pleasure from them. Basically what I'm saying is pain is necessary for pleasure.

"What are you, an emo or something?" Lucy asked completely missing the point.

"… Forget it." Mike said it as he turned the corner on his block with a sigh. "_You would never be able to understand anyway." _Mike thought to himself.

"… Bye." Lucy mumbled to herself as Mike left.

A few hours later Mike found himself laying on his bed reading over his notes from school. He would have much rather been watching TV, listening to music, or even reading an actual book, but he knew it would save him trouble later on. Sure, it was cripplingly boring now, but in the end he would be glad that he got it all out of the way. At least that's what everyone told him. So Mike did his best to memorize the quadratic formula, although he had no idea how knowing it by heart would be helpful.

After rereading the same thing about fifty times and not any closer to remembering it, he was interrupted by the phone. Like normal, he didn't even bother getting up since he knew someone else would probably get it. It was probably one of his sister's friends anyway. Then again, she had a cell phone, but regardless, Mike wasn't interested. He doubted it was for him anyway.

Several minutes later Mike heard a knock on his door.

"Yeah?" He yelled to whoever it was.

"Hey, it's just me." His mom said slowly opening the door, as if half expecting to him to be indecent.

"What do you need, mom?" Mike asked.

"I, uh…. I just got a call from the doctor." His mom said with a bit of a stressed tone.

"What did he say?" Mike asked, now concerned.

"She said that the results from your blood work just came in and something didn't seem right. She wants you to come in for some more tests." His mom said unable to completely mask her distraught feelings.

"Well uh… What was wrong?" Mike asked becoming quite worried.

"She said she couldn't talk about it over the phone. So we have an appointment with her tomorrow morning." His mom replied.

"What about school?" Mike asked her.

"I'll just have you take off tomorrow. I just want to make sure you're alright." His mom said giving him a fake smile. Mike knew it was meant to be reassuring but it only seemed to make him worry more.

"What time is the appointment?"

"It's around 10:00 am, so you can stay up a little later tonight if you want." His mom told him, trying still to make him feel better.

"Okay." Mike said unable to hide the growing feeling of uncertainty inside of him.

"Try not to worry too much; I'm sure it's nothing. Probably just a mistake." His mom said to him. He wasn't quite sure if she said that to cheer him up, or her.

Mike nodded, and his mother left him to his thoughts. He couldn't help but worry, even if he knew it wouldn't help. Mike desperately wanted to relax at this point, but he knew that he needed to study. So he picked up his paper and began to reread the quadratic equation over and over again. He was hardly able to focus with so many thoughts of what could be wrong with him running through his head. He kept telling himself that he was obviously healthy, what could possibly be wrong with him? It was probably a vitamin deficiency, or a germ, or something like that. If it were something bad, he would show symptoms, right?

Deciding not to take up his mothers offer, Mike figured he would go to sleep a little early. The pressure was killing him, and he didn't think he could reread the quadratic formula one more time without gouging his eyes out. He had been tired all week anyway.

The next morning Mike found himself in a position much too similar to his last Saturday. He muted the horrid screeching of his alarm clock and slowly crawled out of bed to get ready for his day. Even with all the extra sleep he still felt exhausted, then again, he always felt exhausted, so he was kind of used to it at this point. With much deliberation, he finished up his personal hygiene regiment and headed down stairs for breakfast. Of course this time he didn't even get a chance to reach for the box of cereal before his mom told him that he couldn't have it.

"Why can't I eat _this _time?" Mike asked rather peeved and hungry.

"I don't know what kinds of tests the doctor is going to want to run, and I'd rather not go all the way up there just to hear you need to have an empty stomach." His mom told him as she brushed her fur.

"UGHHHH" Mike loudly groaned as he sat down at the kitchen table and laid his head down on his arms.

"Well, hurry up and finish getting ready so we can go." His mother said working out a knot.

"I already am." Mike said through gritted teeth.

"Alright, alright, no need for the attitude." His mom said as she began to head upstairs.

Mike simply sighed loudly to show his displeasure and exhaustion.

The ride to the doctor's office was a quiet one, since neither of them had anything particularly interesting to say. Luckily, it was a short one as well, and upon reaching their destination they were pleased to discover few people in the waiting room. So within a few minutes of arriving they were called back. They were once again led through the long hallway to a small room, this time to await the doctor. The nurse left Mike and his mother in the room to pass the time on their own.

"You brushed your teeth, right?" Mike's mother asked him, taking on an all too familiar maternal tone.

"Yes." Mike said with little emotion.

"Combed your fur?"

"_Yes._" Mike said getting rather annoyed.

"Are you lying? You have a knot right here. Let me get it for you…" His mom said taking a brush out of her purse.

"Mom, really, will you leave me alone?" Mike snapped at her.

"… Fine." His mom said sitting back down without a word, no longer looking at her son.

They sat in silence for at least another three minutes until the doctor entered the room looking intently at a clipboard.

"Good morning, Michael." His doctor said greeting him. "Oh, and good morning to you as well. You're his mother, I presume?"

"Good morning, and yes, I am." His mother responded, suddenly losing all traces of visible animosity she had previously been holding towards her son.

"Okay, well I'm sure you're both fairly curious of why I called you here today, so let me get straight to the point. Michael, I noticed on your blood test that your red blood cell count was… particularly high. The medical term for this is 'Erythrocytosis'. Well, after seeing this I ran a few different tests, and I found something that was _very _odd. You seem to have a large amount of AFP, or alpha-fetoprotein, in your blood." The doctor said to the room.

"Well, what does that mean?" Mike asked rather confused.

"A large amount of AFP is by no means good. There are only a few things that I can remember that cause it, but luckily you are hardly at risk of them. What I want to do is refer you to a Hepatologist, and have him take a look at you just to be sure." The doctor said glancing down at his clipboard.

"What's a Hepatologist?" Mike asked figuring it was a specialist of some sort by the name.

"A Hepatologist is a liver specialist." The doctor answered.

"A liver specialist? What's wrong with Michael's liver?" His mom asked concerned.

"I can't really say. Hopefully nothing, but I'm writing this referral to be sure."


	3. Extensive Testing

Chapter 3: Extensive Testing

Mike was beginning to find that, like everything else, even going to the doctor's was getting predictable. He opened his eyes and scrambled to turn off the earsplitting alarm that plagued him every morning. Normally, Mike would have then gotten up and headed to the bathroom to prepare for his day, but on this morning, he laid his head back on his pillow and stared at his ceiling. This was the first time Mike had ever actually needed to see a specialist, so he couldn't help but be slightly afraid.

Mike wanted to think nothing was wrong, and he tried desperately to do so, but he couldn't get the doubt out of his head. What could possibly be wrong him, and what could possibly be wrong with his liver? Mike could feel his eyes lightly glaze over with mental and physical exhaustion as he let out a deep sigh. He felt his eyelids become heavy as he drifted back off to sleep.

"Mike! What are you doing? Why aren't you ready to go?" Mike's mom yelled as she feverishly entered his room.

"Oh crap!" Mike said jumping out of his bed realizing he had fallen back to sleep. "How much time do I have?"

"We need to be leaving in about five minutes." Mike's mom told him. "What happened? Didn't your alarm go off?"

"Yeah, I mean I just… I guess I fell back asleep." Mike said quickly walking to his bathroom.

"Alright, well hurry up and get ready so we can go." His mom said walking out of his room.

As Mike brushed his teeth he then realized this was the first time that actually meant something.

Unfortunately, the specialist's office was across town, so both Mike and his mother knew it was going to be a long ride, especially with all of the traffic. So when Mike was ready, they both headed to the car and began their journey. Majority of the car ride was silent, similar to their last trip together, except now they had music playing softly in the background, soft rock hits of yesterday and today.

Even after his high octane awakening, Mike found himself with his head leaned against the door's windshield, slowly drifting off. Of course as much as he drifted off, he couldn't seem to get completely asleep. Even though now was the perfect time for a nap, his mind wouldn't shut off, and he was becoming increasingly worried about what tests he would be subjected too upon reaching the office, and what results those tests would yield. He desperately wanted to sleep, since these same thoughts had been plaguing him since his last appointment with his doctor, but his attempts bore no fruit.

After about an hour of trying to go to sleep, Mike finally found himself about to go unconscious until he felt the car come to a stop and then shut off.

"Hey, you awake?" His mom asked him with a gentle tone. Mike blinked his eyes a few times and looked over at her with a soft, tired expression. "We're here."

They both left the car, and walked across the long parking lot to the specialist's office. Upon walking in they were happy to see only about 3 parties sitting in the lobby, but they were slightly disturbed at how some of them looked. One of the parties had an old man breathing with a plastic tube connected to a small tank in a bag. Every breath seemed to be deep and strained, and the man's eyes seemed tired and exhausted, almost as if he had already given up. Even the young woman next to him seemed tired. The other party had a man in about his forties who seemed to weigh possibly 250 to 270 pounds, and by no means in shape. He had a blond haired woman sitting next to him, also somewhere in her forties. While she didn't weigh as much as him, she still seemed a bit overweight, and quite a bit out of shape herself. Her hair was frayed and her face told the story of a hard life. The last party didn't seem to have anyone that was particularly bad; they all seemed to be relatively normal people. A young woman who was decent looking, a decent looking man who was probably her husband, and a young child probably around the age of eight, all looked pretty healthy.

After his mom signed them both in, they took a seat and waited. It only took about five minutes for the large door to open and for an old man in a wheelchair to be led out by a nurse. The healthy family all stood up to help the man, and after talking with the nurse for a minute, they were handed a piece of paper and they left. Suddenly, Mike became even more worried. It turns out that he was the only healthy person here to the see the specialist at all. Then Mike began to wonder, what if he wasn't as healthy as he thought? He looked down at his lap with an expression that equally reflected his exhaustion as well as his worry.

"Try not to worry too much," Mike's mom said rubbing his back. "The doctor said it might be nothing."

"… But what if it is something?" Mike asked in a low tone, trying not to break the silence in the office. He could tell the people in the office were looking at him with the corner of their eyes, pitying the teenager with liver problems.

"Well, then we're gonna make sure you get all better." His mom said with a smile.

Mike simply gave a slow nod as a response. His mom's words seemed to cheer him up somewhat, but they could only do so much.

One thing Mike, nor his mother, had anticipated was that you typically spend much longer with a specialist then you do with a regular doctor, so they found themselves waiting about an hour and a half before they got in. They couldn't imagine how long it would have taken if the office had been busy. Regardless, they were glad they had finally been called back, and they made their way through the door with the nurse who had called them in. They walked down a long hallway, this one being much bigger than the one at his regular doctor's office. Mike couldn't help but be slightly intimidated at some of the large machinery he saw on his walk. Eventually, he just looked at the ground, not wanting to see into anymore of the rooms.

Finally, they reached a room that seemed oddly similar to the room he had talked to his regular doctor in. The nurse sat him down on the small bed with a paper sheet on it, while his mom sat on a chair a few feet away. There was a small radio that was quietly playing smooth jazz. They spent a few minutes listening to the complicated stylings of an obvious Saxophone virtuoso, until the doctor walked in. He was a dark furred Chartreux, and like most doctors, was carrying a clipboard.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Bernard." He said offering his hand to Mike, and then his mother. "So, Michael, what I'm seeing here is that you have a particularly high amount of AFP, as well as red blood cells. So I'll start off by asking if you've had any odd symptoms lately." He said with a slight French accent, truly a rare thing to hear in a place like Roseville.

"Uh, no, I don't think I have." Mike said slightly unsure.

"Okay, well I'm going to read off a few different symptoms, tell me if you've had any of these." He said to Mike. "And please tell me if you've noticed any of these symptoms in your son as well. " He said looking at his mother. They both nodded.

"Fatigue?" The doctor asked.

"Um, yeah, I suppose I have been tired lately." Mike said trying to hide the worry in his voice. The doctor marked something on his clipboard and continued.

"Easy bruising?"

"No."

"Itching?"

"No."

"Stomach pain?"

"No, well, sometimes." Mike said suddenly realizing it.

"When do you normally get them?" The doctor asked looking up from his clipboard.

"Sometimes after I eat dinner I guess." Mike said with a worried expression rubbing his arm and looking at his lap in nervousness.

"Mike, you never told me about that…" His mother said a little hurt he had never brought it up.

"Well, I mean it was never really that bad. It just started recently, and I don't get it every time I eat anyway."

"Hmm, how about jaundice?" The doctor asked looking at his clipboard once again.

"Uh, what's that?" Mike asked, knowing it sounded familiar.

"It's yellowing of the skin or eyes."

"Oh, no," Mike said remembering it from sex-ed.

"Alright, well what I'm gonna do is run you through some tests." The doctor said walking over to his desk and opening up a drawer.

"What, uh, kind of tests?" Mike asked with apprehension.

"Don't worry," the doctor said inserting a small bottle onto the top of a syringe. "Nothing that bad."


	4. The Results

Chapter 4: The Results

Mike slowly opened his eyes, greeted by the gentle pitter patter of rain splashing on his rooftop. For the first time in a long time Mike actually felt refreshed. Maybe it was the rain, maybe it was just coincidence, or maybe it was because this was the first Saturday he actually wasn't ripped from sleep by an alarm clock in three weeks, but he actually felt pretty good for a change. Mike climbed out of bed and headed for his bathroom. He simply brushed his teeth, used the utilities, and paid no mind to his fur. He wasn't going anywhere for a change so it didn't matter if he looked a touch unkempt.

After finishing up his morning routine Mike eagerly headed down stairs, greeted by a varying assortment of breakfast smells, only feeding his good mood, as well as his appetite. Upon entering the kitchen his nose did not deceive. Indeed his mother was making breakfast, and it looked to be a good one. Finally, things could go back to normal.

"Morning, mom!" Mike said with enthusiasm as he eagerly ran up to see what his mother was making.

"Oh, good morning Michael," his mom said, momentarily looking away from the pan of bacon, as it shot bits of hot grease in all directions. "Someone's in a good mood I see." His mom said with a smile.

"Mmhm." Mike responded. "So uh, when is all this gonna be ready?"

"Well, I'm only waiting on the bacon, so actually, in a few minutes." His mom said, doing her best to dodge the flying grease.

"Great, I can't wait!" Mike said as he was going to leave the room.

"Wait one second. You don't think I'm gonna let you eat like _that, _do you?" His mom said taking on that motherly tone Mike had heard one too many times.

"Wh-what do you mean?" He asked, obviously caught off guard.

"You're a wreck! Go and brush your fur." His mom said with slight irritation in her voice.

"But why? I'm not going anywhere." Mike asked confused.

"That's no excuse to look like a slob." His mom said shifting her focus back to the bacon. "I'm only telling you this for your own good."

"But I-"Mike started.

"Michael, please!" His mom snapped at him.

"Grrr," Mike growled as he went up to his room to brush his hair.

Although he was rather annoyed while he made the walk to his room, he soon found himself in too good a mood to stay angry. Between the relaxing sounds from the rain, and the impending meal, he could take a little irritation, especially since his mother had a point and he looked a wreck.

When he finished brushing his hair, Mike headed down stairs, hoping breakfast was ready. He entered the kitchen and indeed everything was laid out and ready to be eaten. He went forward to dish up, but his mother stopped him.

"Michael, can you please wake up your sister for me?" His mom asked of him.

"Aw man, but she is such a bitch." He said with a groan. It was at that moment Mike stopped and his eyes widened. He hadn't realized it until he said it, but his mom wasn't going to like any part of that statement.

"_Well, _if your sister is such a _bitch, _as you say, then maybe I should give her _your_ breakfast." His mom said to him with scorn.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'll go wake her up." Mike said with a nervous smile and a swift retreat. He quickly ran up stairs to wake his sister. He always hated waking people up. While he climbed the stairs, the phone rang. He had hoped the phone would wake his sister, but upon opening her door, he was quite mistaken.

"Hmm, maybe the rain will put her in a good mood." Mike said to himself as he walked in, and made his way to her bedside.

"Hey, mom wanted me to wake you up." Mike said standing over her.

"Hey, breakfast is ready." He said now giving her a slight nudge.

"Hey! HEY!" He yelled in the silence of his sister's room. With one quick movement she swung her arm back hitting him right in the face.

"OW!" He yelled as he fell to ground clutching his nose.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" His sister asked in anger.

"Mom wanted me to wake you up. Why the hell did you hit me in the face?" He yelled back.

"Oh, I don't know." His sister started with obvious sarcasm, "Maybe because you started screaming like a retard?"

"Well maybe I wouldn't have had to scream if you weren't so fat!" He yelled back, his voice muffled by his hand.

"What did you call me, you loser?" She said violently throwing a pillow at him.

"You heard me. Fat, fat, _fat." _He said giving her the dirtiest scowl he could manage.

"That's it, I'm gonna-"his sister started.

"Michael, come down here." Their mom yelled from down stairs.

"Oh you are _so _lucky." His sister said as he stood up.

"And you are _so_ fat, funny how that works." Mike said leaving the room and walking down stairs, the pain in his nose finally disappearing. When he got halfway down stairs he saw his mom grab her purse.

"That was the doctor. He just got your tests results back. He told us to come in as soon as possible." His mom said with a worried rush.

"Now?" Mike asked in disbelieve.

"Yes, now. Let's go." She said grabbing an umbrella.

* * *

Mike swallowed hard as worry began to consume his good mood. His mom seemed to have an equally distressed disposition as she did her best to manage the car in the rain.

"So, do you think the doctor found something…?" Mike asked his mother.

"Well, I don't see why he would want us coming in so quickly if he hadn't." His mom said with an annoyed and stressed tone.

"Oh." Mike simply said as he looked at his lap. He was hoping for a little more encouragement from his mother, and that little dose of truth caught him off guard.

"… I'm sorry Michael." His mother sighed. "You're probably right, maybe it is nothing." His mother said trying to hide the worry in her voice.

"No, you're right, he did find something." Michael said in a tone so low his mother was almost unable to hear it over the sound of the rain.

"Michael…" His mother said having trouble dealing with her own worry as well as her sons. "Try to have a better attitude." She said trying to make him feel better.

"A better attitude?" Mike asked offended. "How am I supposed to have a better attitude when you're freaking out just as much as me?" Mike snapped.

"Well I'm sorry, but I'm a little stressed out too!" His mother yelled back at him almost in tears.

Mike didn't say anything. He had a lot of responses run through his mind, but none of them seemed appropriate, so instead, he focused on keeping calm, a task that seemed to be getting harder and harder as time progressed. He let out a deep sigh, thus solidifying the painful silence in the car.

It wasn't long until they pulled into the small parking lot of the doctor's office and headed inside, doing their best to stay under the umbrella. When they walked in, they only saw one person waiting, and they were relieved to see this wouldn't take long. They went to take a seat when they were stopped by a woman behind the check-in counter.

"Excuse me, Miss?" The woman behind the counter greeted them.

"Uh, yes?" Mike's mom responded, looking at the woman.

"You can both go back; the doctor is waiting." She said with an almost ironically happy tone given the severity of the situation.

"Oh, uh, thank you." Mike's mom said as she nodded to her and grabbed Mike's hand with force. "Okay, let's go." She said stressed.

When they got through the door separating the waiting room from the rest of the building, Mike managed to get his hand free from his mother's grasp as the nurse led them to the same room they entered the day Mike had been referred to see Dr. Bernard.

Mike, like always, was sat down on the small bed covered with a thin, disposable sheet of paper, and his mom sat down in a chair. There was a short wait, and then the doctor entered the room. The doctor looked at the clipboard in silence for at least a minute.

"Well, I got the test results from the Hepatologist. We've taken a lot of time looking over the results, and in the end, we always come back to the same conclusion." The doctor began. With that, the silence of the room became almost unbearable.

"And that is…?" Mike asked, simply looked into the eyes of the doctor with worry.

"Mike, you have something called Hepatocellular carcinoma. This is better known as…" The doctor stopped a moment, closing her eyes, trying to think of the best way to say it. "… Cancer of the liver."

With those words, Mike was overcome with a tight feeling in his stomach as he let out a harsh exhale. He simply looked at the doctor, his eyes slowly widening. He didn't know how to respond to the situation, so he simply sat there, unable to collect his thoughts. He had figured something was wrong, no, he _knew _something was wrong, but cancer? Mike looked at the floor, and then over at his mom. The look of horror on his mothers face helped put the situation into better perspective for Mike and he slowly began to understand what was happening. His mother had clasped her hand over her mouth, and her wide eyes were beginning to tear up.

"No…" His mother said moving her head back forth. "No, no, no, no, no…" She said breaking down into a sob.

"Mom…?" Mike asked with a confused and scared tone.

"Oh god, Michael!" His mother said as she jumped up and walked over to him, embracing him a large hug. He simply sat there as he slowly brought his arms up and hugged her back.

"Don't worry mom, I'll be alright." Mike said trying to calm her down, now getting tears in his own eyes, still managing to keep his composure fairly well.

"Oh, Michael…" His mom said, still sobbing. The doctor simply stood there in silence staring at the ground, not wanting to witness the pain she had probably seen many times before.

"How….?" His mom said breaking free from the hug and looking at the doctor. "How is this possible? How could he have liver cancer? He is only fifteen!" She asked hysterically.

"Although we aren't entirely sure how this happened ourselves, it turns out your son has primary biliary cirrhosis. We believe this is what caused the liver cancer, but there were most likely other unidentified causes as well."

"Well, he's still young. It can still be cured, can't it?" His mother asked with a terrified expression.

"We are currently looking into possible treatment, but the problem is that the cancer has developed into its advanced stages, which means treating it would be much more difficult…" The doctor said doing her best to maintain her composure.

"You say that like you aren't going to try! Are you just going to let my little boy die?" She said still sobbing hysterically.

"Ma'am, I assure you we are going to everything we can to help Michael, but we will need to run more tests to fully understand the severity of the cancer."

Mike simply sat in silence staring at the floor as he listened to them talk about him as if he wasn't there. Of course in a way, he wasn't there. He seemed lost, unable to completely get a grip on his thoughts. He could feel tears rising up in him, but he didn't cry. He simply sat there, not sure whether or not he should comfort his mother, sob to himself, or vomit.

On the drive home, the rain had slowed down. Mike couldn't help but occasionally glance over at his mother who was driving, tears streaming down her face. He didn't know how she had managed to keep from sobbing, but he figured maybe she felt similar to the way he did. He felt lost, like he was truly separated from the world. He knew that he should have been crying, but he just sat there. Whenever he tried to get a solid grip on his thoughts, they slipped away, and whenever he tried to relax and let his thoughts drift, they came flying back, pulling him into reality. Nothing was said on the ride home, since there was nothing to say.

When they finally finished the drive the rain had fortunately come to a stop, so they both climbed out of the car and slowly made their way inside. Once again, nothing was said, since there were no words appropriate for the situation. As they both walked up to the front door, and his mom struggled to unlock it, Mike couldn't help but think to himself. He looked at his hand, his own body, and he asked himself in his head "Am I going to die?" He could hear the question repeat in his head over and over again as his eyes began to once again tear up. He could feel himself begin to shake as he felt his chest knot up. Finally his mom opened the door and they both walked inside.

"Hey! I was wondering where you guys went." Mike's sister said running up to them. "Mike…?"

Mike walked past her without even the slightest of greetings, as he struggled not to start sobbing right there.

"Mom, what's wrong?" His sister asked, now becoming quite worried herself at both her brother's and her mother's tears.

"Honey…" Mike's mom said trying not to breakdown. "We need to have a little talk about your brother."


	5. Breakdown

Chapter 5: Breakdown

Mike steadily made his way upstairs, and took no deliberation in entering his room. He promptly locked his door and stood there, both hands on the door knob, unsure of what to do next. He still had tears building up in his eyes, and a tight feeling in his chest, but he refused to cry. He just kept telling himself that it couldn't be happening, that there had been some kind of mistake. After all, he _was _only fifteen. How could he have liver problems? He never drank, he never did drugs, and he was always a nice person.

Mike walked over to the edge of his bed and sat down. He rested his head in his hands and still held back, refusing to let himself cry.

"_What did I ever do to deserve this?" _Mike thought to himself. "_I've always tried to be a good person, helping people when I could, giving up the little bit of free time I had for their sakes. I sacrificed so much of me, I sacrificed my entire childhood, and for what? To die before I can reap any of the benefits? All the hours of time I wasted studying, the time I wasted being a good person, the time I WASTED."_

Mike could feel the muscles in his arms tense up, as he could feel himself start to become hot.

"_So much for karma. All the time I spent thinking about how everything I did would pay off in the future. Not to mention all the time spent actually insuring that pay off._ _No matter what I do that time is lost forever."_

"Damn it…" Mike said to himself, still doing his best not to cry, but with tears running down his cheeks.

"_What the fuck do I do? 'We are currently looking into possible treatment'? POSSIBLE TREATMENT? She means I am going to fucking die and there is nothing ANYONE can do to stop it. I'm going to die a slow, horrible death, all alone. I'm going to die."_

"I'm going to die." Mike whispered to himself as he slid onto the ground off of the edge of his bed. Mike kept his face buried in his hands.

"I'm going to die. I'm going to die. God no…." Mike said sobbing uncontrollably now. "I'm going to die and no one can help me. Everything was a waste; everything _is _a waste."

"God… Please? Please, I don't want to die. Oh God I'm begging you, please." Mike sat on the floor sobbing, no longer attempting to control his tears. He knew there was no hope for him, yet he desperately prayed to whoever may be listening to free him from his pain. He didn't want to die, since he had never really lived.

Mike spent the next few hours crying, reflecting on all the mistakes he had made with his life. If only he could have realized how wrong he had been and maybe facilitated some kind of change. He should have spent more time enjoying himself, having fun, and messing around. Maybe then, he would have been able to at least look back on his life and have memories. Now all he had was a long blur of events. He thought about all the times he had helped Lucy, and hoped that maybe, just maybe, he made some kind of positive impact on her life. He thought about Sandy and how he may never be able to see her again, and if he did, he would probably be too sick to enjoy it.

He also thought about how he would tell everyone about his illness. It's not like he could keep it a secret, he had to tell his friends. He figured, no, he knew, that once he told them everything would get awkward. He knew everyone would simply wait for him to just drop dead. He contemplated not telling them at all, but he knew that they would figure out about it eventually and the fact he hadn't told them would only stand to hurt them. It was his responsibility to tell them, but he was getting sick of responsibility.

He had spent so many years being responsible, being safe, being cautious, and now he could do nothing but look at where it had all gotten him. He brought his hand up to his face and stared at it. He wondered what his fingers would look like if he had been more like Paulo. Maybe he would have calluses, or maybe he would have lost that hand. Hell, at least it would have been an interesting memory. All Mike had were memories of drama and stress with his friends. He could barely remember anything good, with maybe a few exceptions of time he had spent with Lucy, but even that was just them arguing over games, nothing truly memorable.

In the end, Mike's hand was still attached, he still had cancer, and he still had no hope. He had wasted his life and there was nothing he could do about it now. He could attempt to live his last days the way they should be spent, with fun and enjoyment, but even Mike knew this was a ridiculous notion. It's impossible to live happily knowing you are simply racing to your deathbed, and it's not like he was going to remain asymptomatic forever. Eventually his body would catch up with him and he would lie in a hospital, slowly decaying until there was nothing left but the regret and sorrow of a poorly lived life, sitting in front of a nurse filled with pity, pity at the rotting corpse of a mere child.

Begging for sleep, and desperately trying to escape the grotesque thoughts of his own rotting body penetrating his forethoughts, Mike shut his eyes. They were sore from crying, and it stung to close them, but still he tried to drift away. Hoping that for at least a few hours he could flee from his demise which grew ever closer. Although, he wasn't tried, just exhausted, and it wasn't sleep he wanted, it was comfort. Some kind of release from the pain and doubt in his heart, for he contemplated how he would even live long enough for the cancer to kill him, if he felt like this every day.

The more time Mike spent alone in the solitude of his room, the more his stress grew. Thinking and talking to himself was no longer providing him any comfort, and he couldn't possibly bear this alone. No one in his family would understand, and he desperately needed a friend. Mike stared at his phone with fear. He wanted to call someone, anyone, to confess his situation, and hope that maybe they could help ease his mind, but at the same time he didn't know what he would say. He didn't even know who he would call.

"Not tonight…" Mike said to himself as he lay helplessly on his bed. He simply closed his eyes and prayed that he could escape the burning memories in his head. Every thought seemed like a punch to the chest, and all he wanted to do was to wake up from this nightmare. For everything to go back to the way it had been. It was truly amazing how much he had wanted a change in his life, and suddenly, all he could ever ask was for everything to go back to normal.


	6. Quiet Desperation

Chapter 6: Quiet Desperation

Mike slowly opened his eyes, instantly feeling a slight stinging sensation from the sun pouring in through his blinds. He attempted to bring his hand up to wipe away the deposits of 'sleep' from below his eyelids, but he was caught off guard by how weak he was. Merely lifting his arm was a chore. He sat there, taking slow deep breathes. He considered getting up, but he had no reason to do so. He simply lay on his bed, happy that for those few moments he could be without thought. Glad that he could simply wait in simple meditation. Of course like all things in this world, his focus began to deteriorate, and thoughts of worry and doubt began to creep in his mind.

Mike let out a heavy sigh and began to stand. He made his way to the bathroom with a slow, deliberate walk, almost a stagger. He looked at himself in the mirror. He stared into his own cold, bloodshot eyes. What he saw filled him with fear, yet he stood there, looking at himself. He saw hidden deep within his own weary complexion his future, or rather, no future. He felt as though he was already looking at a skeleton. As if the cancer had already taken him, and he was merely the remnants of the forsaken. Mike looked down into his sink, part of him wanted to vomit, while another part of him wanted to lie down, but his stomach had other ideas. With a loud growl, Mike's stomach reminded him that no matter his appetite, he required food to live.

After using the bathroom, he made his way downstairs to get food. He pondered the irony in him eating now. He ate to stay alive, yet here he was on his way to death's door. Slowly Mike's thoughts became more cryptic as he began to tap into the irony of anyone eating at all. Why bother? In the end everyone was doomed, so why bother sustaining your life at all. In the end, everyone dies and everything is for naught. As Mike approached the kitchen he could hear the voice of his mom, he didn't know what she was saying, and he really didn't care.

"_In the end… _"Mike thought to himself as he entered his kitchen. His mother, sister, and even his baby brother had descended into a pit of silence upon him entering. Mike couldn't have imagined them having a very positive conversation anyway, in light of recent events. Regardless, Mike felt like a plague. Now, not only was he doomed to die a slow, painful death; his very life would become an irritant to anyone who had the misfortune of being around him. Maybe he was better off dying, if not for him, but for everyone else.

Mike opened his refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water as well as a small bowl filled with leftovers of some sort. He then grabbed a fork and began to walk out of the kitchen, not even making eye contact with any of his family. He couldn't bear to see the look's on their faces in anymore detail than what the corners of his eyes would allow, and no one could blame him.

"Michael…?" His mom asked with an almost timid voice.

"Huh?" Mike responded with little emotion, stopping at the entrance of the kitchen.

"How are you doing?" His mom asked him, already knowing the answer.

"Um… I'm dying." Mike said, once again with little to no emotion. There was no sarcasm in the statement, nor was there any humor intended, but as Mike said it, he almost laughed. He had no idea why, but he found some type of humor in the statement. Possibly the sheer bluntness of the statement, or maybe the humor was nestled deep in its inappropriate behavior. Or maybe, it was him, beginning to go mad.

As Mike walked to the stairs, food and water in hand, he began to deeply regret his response. Slowly, it dawned on him how much that probably hurt his family. He wanted to turn around, to apologize to them, but he didn't know how. He had no idea what he would say. He figured he would probably end up making it worse, so he went back up to his room to lie down and eat. By no means did he want to eat, but he needed to. He didn't know or care why; he just knew it needed to be done.

When Mike had finished forcing the food into his body, he lay on his bed, no TV, no music, nothing but the sounds of the birds chirping outside. He attempted to control his thoughts, but he was so exhausted. The very task of focusing was too great a feat to manage at the time, but in truth, this didn't really bother Mike. At least sitting in a cold atrophy was better than downright suffering. Mike wasn't sure if that counted as looking at life more positively, but it was all he could manage right now.

As minutes turned to hours, and Mike's loneliness grew, he began to stare at his phone. He needed to talk to somebody, anybody. He thought about talking to his family. It wouldn't have been that hard since his mother had fairly consistently found her way to his door, knocking to see if he was alright. Yet, it didn't feel right to him. He didn't want to talk to his mother, and there was no way he could talk to his sister or his brother. He considered talking to Blur, but he was at Lucy's house.

For the next several hours he thought intently on who to call. He knew that if he called someone, he was going to have to explain the whole situation, and he didn't really feel like doing that. Simultaneously, he knew that he needed to talk to someone because he couldn't take his self-destructive reflections any longer, so he got up and grabbed the wireless house phone on the other end of his room. He then went back to his bed and sat on the edge. He stared at the numbers on the phone and continued to ponder on who to call.

"_Hmmm…" _Mike thought to himself._ "Maybe Lucy… No, she wouldn't understand. I could try Paulo. Ugh, I don't think I could deal with that right now. Daisy? No, she would probably freak out… Hmm, I could call Lucy. Well, no, I don't want to worry the pets. Abbey would probably understand, but… I don't know. I suppose I could call David… or not. There is always Lucy. NO, I'm NOT calling Lucy… I guess I could call Sandy. Oh God, I don't think I have the heart to tell her…" _Mike debated with himself.

"Alright, think Michael." Mike said to himself as he clutched the phone in his hands and closed his eyes. "_I've got to figure out who I'm closest too. No… Okay, let's think of who I've hung around with the most. No. I've got to think about who I've had the most fun with. NO. I've got to think about… about… who I've…" _Mike's train of thought slowly came to a stop as he realized something. The same person kept coming to mind each time. Ironically, it was the last person he wanted to call next to Sandy. Mike wasn't sure if he owed it to himself, or to her, but without reason or explanation Mike began to dial Lucy's phone number on his phone. He could feel his heart begin to beat fast. He wondered how she would react, and almost instinctively he began to regret what he was doing. He wanted to stop, to call someone else, but he knew if he stopped now he would hang up his phone, and no other calls would be made, and the one thing scarier then exposing himself to Lucy was being alone.

Finally, Mike finished dialing the number. He hit the 'talk' button on the phone and listened to the dialing noises coming from the receiver down by his lap. He slowly raised the phone to his ear as he listened to the ringing. Mike's doubt slowly grew as his wish to hang up the phone became more and more prevalent. The only thing keeping him from doing it was the thought of being alone, the one thing he didn't think he could possibly bare any longer. To hang up, or not to hang up, Mike found himself in an internal struggle as he braced himself for the phone to be answered.

After a few rings, Mike's doubts began to take priority and he had almost convinced himself no one was there when someone answered.

"Hello?" A female voice, most likely Lucy's mom, said over the phone. Mike simply sat there, wanting to say something, but not knowing what to say.

"Hellllloooo? Anyone there?" Her mom asked again.

Mike could feel his heart speed up as his hand tightly gripped the phone. He didn't know why he couldn't ask for Lucy, he just couldn't do it. He knew that once he told Lucy, or anyone for that matter, about his issues, he would be constantly reminded of it. All he wanted to do was escape, to stop thinking about cancer and death. The only reason he had called in the first place was because this was beginning to seem impossible, but he knew once he told someone, it would be completely impossible. So he sat there in silence. He didn't want to give up his pitiful amount of control over the situation, the ability to suffer on his own terms, but he also was beginning to think that maybe if he surrendered, just a little bit, he wouldn't suffer so much.

"Alright, who the hell is this?" Her mom asked in anger.

At first, Mike was a bit taken aback by the sudden hostility, but he quickly realized that he had been breathing deeply into the phone the whole time. Panicking, Mike hit the 'End' button on the phone and clutched it in his hand. He sat completely still for several moments, almost as if he was waiting for a conformation to make sure his retreat from the phone call had gone successfully. After realizing that indeed, the call had been disconnected, the situation slowly began to dawn on him. He slowly lowered the phone to his lap and stared at it. He was alone once again, and he didn't know if he had the energy to make another call. Mike let out an exasperated sigh and sat in place, staring at the phone. He was tired of lying down, but he didn't know what else to do.

Suddenly, the phone rang, startling Mike out of his depressed stupor. He quickly answered.

"Hello?" He answered after the first ring.

"What the _fuck_?"


	7. Two Lost Souls

Chapter 7: Two Lost Souls…

"H-hello?" Mike asked, wide eyed and suddenly afraid. He recognized the voice, and he definitely recognized the tone.

"Why the hell did you just call my house for?" Lucy asked in anger.

"What, uh, makes you think I called your house?" Mike asked, not thinking at full speed.

"Hmm, I don't know." Lucy started sarcastically. "Caller ID maybe? Now how about you answer the question, _why _did you call my house AND THEN, act like an idiot and hang up?

"I, uh, don't know." Mike said, wishing to whatever holy creature may be out there to end this conversation as soon as possible.

"You don't know? You call my house, act like a complete fuck, and you don't know why?" Lucy asked, her rage growing exponentially by the second.

"… I guess was just wondering what you were up to." Mike said after a short silence, hoping this conversation didn't go in the direction he was guessing it was going to go.

"Well, why didn't you just _ask _for me?" Lucy asked him almost exasperated at this point.

"I…" Mike stopped there. He didn't know how to respond, so he sat there trying to think of a suitable answer. He couldn't help but look down at his lap, slightly ashamed of being called out like he was.

"Mike, what is your problem?" Lucy asked him with a mixture of confusion and anger.

"What do you mean?" Mike asked slightly hurt.

"Honestly Mike, you don't exactly call to see 'what I'm up to' very often. Not to mention the fact you're acting weird as hell."

"Well, I just…" Mike started.

"You just what, Mike?" Lucy egged him on.

"I just… I… You know what? Fuck this, if I knew you were going to be such a bitch I wouldn't have called." Mike said suddenly being consumed with anger. "All I wanted to do was talk, but _no, _you've got to do nothing but harass me. Then again, it really isn't my place to ask you to be nice for change is it? You know what, Lucy? Excuse the _fuck _out of me for calling you and not doing everything the way you fucking want me too!" Mike screamed into the transmitter, smashing the 'End' button on the phone. He got a sudden urge to throw the phone across the room but he managed to control himself.

"Damn it! I fucking hate this!" Mike said punching his bed with as much force as he could muster, almost hurting his arm. "God damn it, Lucy. GOD DAMN IT!" Mike screamed as he walked over and slammed the phone down on its charger. He could feel tears of anger and desperation well up in his eyes, but he held them back.

"All I wanted to do was fucking talk, but forget it. "Mike said himself with his voice starting to break. "Obviously that's not going to fucking happen. I'm sure I'll get plenty of that at school tomorrow anyway, when I get to listen to everyone bitch about their lives. "Mike continued as he lay down on his bed, face down in his pillow. "Their terrible, terrible, little lives…" Mike said to himself, his voice muffled by the pillow and getting steadily quieter.

"Mike, are you okay?" His mom asked knocking on the door.

"I'm fine." Mike replied with anger, just wanting to be left alone. He didn't hear any response from his mom, and this only seemed to anger him more. It seemed all he could do was make everyone around him as unhappy as he was. He was nothing but a virus; slowly spreading pain and misery to everyone he came into any sort of contact with. Maybe he really was better off dead. There was nothing anyone could do to help him anyway.

As Mike wallowed in his own self-pity, Lucy sat on the edge of her own bed, surprised, and even a touch hurt, at Mike's explosive reaction. She had no idea why he was acting so weird, but she knew something was seriously wrong. This wasn't normal of Mike, let alone anyone for that matter. Lucy looked at her phone with a grimace. She wanted to call Mike and ask him what was wrong, but she was a little afraid of what his reaction would be. Finally, she decided that he would have done the same for her (at least there was a time when he would have), so she began to dial his number.

Mike heard the ringing of the phone, and almost instantly jumped up in anger. While deep in his mind he was truly glad that Lucy hadn't given up on him, on the surface he was still consumed in fury and wasn't open to reasoning from his subconscious. He quickly made his way across the room and answered the phone.

"Who is it?" Mike asked with a clearly enraged tone.

"Mike, it's me." Lucy said to him. For the first time that night Mike had actually heard Lucy calm, and it seemed to have a calming effect on him, but it was only slight.

"What do you want?" Mike asked her,now with less rage, but more attitude.

"I want to know what's wrong with you." Lucy asked, this time expecting a real answer.

"What's wrong with me? WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME? The only thing _wrong with me _is that no one will leave me alone!" Mike yelled at her.

Lucy clenched her fist and did her best not to reply in anger. She knew that if she let her anger get the best of her now, she wouldn't get anything out of Mike. Normally she would have just let him have his way and hang up, but she could tell something was very wrong.

"Mike, there is obviously a problem, and you obviously called me to talk about it. I'm sorry about how I reacted before, and… and… I'm just sorry, alright? Now will you _please _tell what's wrong?" Lucy reasoned.

"A problem…. Like you could _ever _understand my problems, as if you could ever possibly fucking fathom them!" Mike said in the phone, stressing the words with force and emotion.

"Try me." Lucy said into the phone, trying to get him to talk. Mike waited a few moments before responding.

"You could never understand, Lucy. I was an idiot for thinking you could." Mike said with more hopelessness and depression rather than anger this time.

"You're not the only person with problems, Mike." Lucy said getting rather annoyed at his selfishness and leaving Mike a bit taken aback. "Everyone has issues, everyone feels pain, and everybody hurts. The world does not revolve around you. So instead of assuming I have no idea what I'm talking about, how about you just tell me these alleged problems, instead of bitching about how 'I can never understand'?" Lucy asked him, the last part in an almost mocking tone.

Mike could feel tears starting to build up as he processed what she said. He couldn't seem to get a solid grasp on his thoughts, and he wondered what to tell her. He figured that if he was going to say it, it may as well be direct. Beating around the bush would only make it worse for both of them. He didn't know if he could take an elongated approach anyway. Mike took a long glance at his hand again, this time he didn't see possibility, but he saw reality. He saw himself.

"I'm going to die." Mike said trying to keep his voice from cracking. There was a long lapse in the conversation. Mike stood there, waiting for Lucy to say something, to see how she would respond. Lucy simply sat on her bed in shock.

"… What did you say?" Lucy said in a tone similar to a whisper, not wanting to believe what she had just heard.

"I'm dying Lucy." Mike said, this time with a slight bit more control over his emotions.

"I-I'm… I just…" Lucy was at a loss for words. She could feel tears of uncertainty starting to build up in her own eyes. She couldn't help but wonder if this was some kind of sick joke. She prayed that was the case, but Mike didn't say anything. There was no punch line, there was no laughing, and there was no humor. There was only silence.

"How?" Lucy finally asked, her voice more fragile and high pitched than Mike was used too.

"I have cancer." Mike responded in a low tone. Mike listened as he heard a gasp, silence, and then soft crying over the phone. Mike wanted to say something to her, to calm her down, maybe to help thank her for listening to him, but there was nothing he could say. He could lie and say he would be alright, but she wouldn't have believed it, and if she did, it would probably only hurt her more in the long run.

"Lucy…" Mike said, having a lot more trouble controlling his tears now that he could hear Lucy crying.

"What about treatment?" Lucy asked him.

"They said they were looking into it, but, I don't think it looks very good…" Mike responded. "… But I really don't want to talk about this right now. I called to get my mind _off _of this."

"Okay, I'm sorry." She said trying to get control over her tears.

They spent the next few minutes with no words. Mike listened as Lucy softly cried over the phone. Neither of them knew what to say, so they sat there.

"Lucy, what are you up too?" Mike asked her, hoping to lighten the mood, although it was a somewhat poor attempt.

"I guess… I'm just sitting here." She said with a sniff. "And you?" She asked trying to not to start sobbing.

"I guess I'm doing the same." Mike said rubbing the shaft of his nose with his thumb and index finger gently. The conversation was awkward, but somehow felt natural at the same time. Maybe it was just Mike, but he was glad to finally be talking to someone, even if the cancer was on the forefront of both of their minds. Lucy was somewhat in shock, but glad Mike was talking about it. She couldn't imagine what it was like to carry a burden like that around, especially alone. Although she didn't admit it to herself, Lucy was a bit glad he had chosen to talk to her, and secretly hoped that she was the first to know.

"Are you alone?" Lucy asked him, this time with a slightly better grasp of her emotions.

"My family is here." Mike answered as he heard objects being shuffled around over the phone.

"I mean are you with them though?"

"No, I'm not." Mike answered, beginning to understand where this was going.

"Do you want me to come over?" Lucy asked him with another sniff.

"No, no, no, you don't have to do that." Mike told her; very glad she had offered it.

"I know that, but do you _want _me too?" Lucy asked him.

"Well I… I…" Mike thought about it for a few seconds. He hadn't considered Lucy volunteering to come over.

"Alright, I'm on my way. I just need to take care of the pets. Oh, and what should I tell Blur?" She asked, almost afraid that she would have to deliver the news.

"… Tell him I said to stay there. He doesn't need to know about this." Mike answered.

"You're gonna have to break it to him eventually, Mike." Lucy leveled with him.

"I know, but I don't see any reason why it has to be now." Mike told her

"Okay, I'll be there soon."

"Oh, and Lucy?" Mike said grabbing her attention.

"Yeah?" She asked.

"… Thanks." Mike said as he rubbed the back of his head.


	8. Swimming in a Fishbowl

Chapter 8: … Swimming in a Fish Bowl

Mike made his way downstairs and entered his living room. His mom was down there watching TV just as he had suspected. His sister was probably in her room doing whatever she did up in her confines, and he assumed his brother was asleep, although he was a touch worried he had disturbed him with his excessive yelling from before.

"Hey, mom?" Mike asked, the depression and exhaustion apparent in his voice.

"Huh? Oh what's wrong?" His mom asked him, immediately attentive and concerned. Mike had communicated very little with her, so she was glad that he was finally talking.

"I have a friend coming over. You know, Lucy? I was wondering if you could keep an ear out for her." Mike asked.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I'll send her up to your room when she gets here. Do you need anything else? I can make you something to eat." His mother asked him.

"No, that's alright. Thanks though." Mike said making his way up to his room.

Although his mother was slightly hurt that he was inviting over a friend when there was so little he had actually said to _her_, she was moreover glad that he was talking. She desperately wanted to see him better and back to his old self, although she doubted that would ever happen. So his mother sat there and waited for Lucy to show up, praying that her little boy would get better, or least feel better.

It wasn't long until Lucy showed up at the front door. Mike had heard the knock, but knew his mother would get it. He simply lay on his bed, the blanket kicked to the bottom edge and quite askew. He realized his room was a touch out of shape, very rare for him, but he didn't really care. He had bigger things to worry about then keeping his room looking tidy.

About half a minute later Mike heard a soft knock on his door and Lucy's gentle voice echoing through.

"Hey Mike, it's me."

"You can come on in." Mike said through the door to her.

Lucy slowly cracked the door open and was greeted by the distinguishable scent of Mike and his room. Maybe it had something to do with how often Mike had been in there, or possibly the fact the windows were all shut, but Lucy noticed his room smelled a bit more poignant, possibly even piquant, then usual. Lucy walked in the room and quietly shut the door behind her. She stood where she was, a little unsure of what to do next.

"You can sit down if you want." Mike offered, using his head to point to the other side of the bed.

"Oh, uh, alright," Lucy said as she took a seat on the opposite end of the bed, still rather uncomfortable. "So… What are you doing?" Lucy asked trying to make conversation.

"Just sitting, thinking," Mike responded.

"I can see that; I mean what were you doing about before I got here?" Lucy asked him

"Doing the same thing I am now; sitting here, thinking." Mike answered.

"Oh, well, um, what are you thinking about?" She asked him, doing her best to make this conversation happen.

"A lot of things…" Mike said stopping for a moment. Lucy was about ask about what, when Mike continued. "My life, my family, my friends… you, and of course… the cancer," Mike said with a slight pause. He hated that word and it hurt him to say it, knowing he was referring to himself.

"I see…" Lucy said with a soft, almost fragile, tone.

"I can't help but wonder what's going to happen now." Mike said to her.

"What do you mean?" Lucy asked him.

"About the treatment, they told me the cancer was advanced, and they were going to try their best, but what if their best isn't enough?" Mike paused for a moment. "What happens to me if they can't cure it?" Lucy simply sat there and listened to Mike talk what if's about his inevitable death while he somehow managed to show little to no emotion, at least on the surface. Lucy could tell it was bothering him. She knew that in reality he was incredibly unhappy, and was in considerable pain. She could tell simply by the lost expression on his face and the details of his voice. He emanated unhappiness at the pores, but he did his best to hide it.

"It's weird to know your life is in someone else's hands, Lucy. To know that one mistake, or one detail, could result in you dying. Sometimes I wonder if it would be easier if they told me there was nothing they could do. If they told there was no treatment, and I had no chance of survival. Sure, it would hurt, but at least the pressure would be gone. You know what I mean?" Mike asked her, his voice as emotionless and cryptic as ever. In some ways, reflecting a monotone.

"I don't know, Mike." Lucy said with her voice breaking.

"Are you crying?" Mike asked her, not sure of what he had said wrong.

"… No." Lucy answered with a sniff.

"Why are you crying?" Mike asked with a small smile. "_I'm _the one who should be crying."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'll try to be strong for your sake." Lucy said wiping the tears from her eyes.

"No, don't apologize. If anything it's flattering." Mike told her, realizing that this was the first time he had smiled since the diagnosis. Lucy gave a small laugh in return.

"Even like this, you're able to cheer me up." Lucy responded. Lucy's smile slowly faded from her face. "I haven't been a good friend, have I, Mike?" Lucy asked.

"What do you mean? You volunteered to come and spend time with me. Sounds like a good friend to me." Mike said trying to cheer her up.

"I know, but, all the other times. You've always been there for me, and I've… I've… Everything I do seems to hurt you, no matter how hard I try to make things right." She said beginning to cry again.

"Lucy, please…" Mike said, thinking of what to say, not wanting to see her saddened. "It's alright. I know you've always cared about me. If anything I was too hard on you and-"Mike started.

"No, Mike, you weren't too hard on me." Lucy interrupted him. "I'm sorry I wasn't… nicer." She said sobbing. Suddenly Mike remembered what he had said to her before he had hung up the phone. Mike didn't really think that it had bothered her, but then again, he never thought he would get cancer, so his 'thoughts' left something to be desired.

"No, no, no…" Mike said as he crawled across the bed and sat next to Lucy. "Lucy, I said that out of anger." Mike said, gently placing his hand on her shoulder.

"But Mike, I'm mean. You can't deny that, can you?" She said looking up at him with tears in her eyes. Mike didn't say anything, he found himself at a loss for words. "Exactly," She said covering her face with her hands once again.

"No, Lucy. It's not that simple. Maybe you are a little mean, I'll admit it, but that doesn't matter. The fact is, you're here. I'm sure we could say the same about Paulo being an idiot, or Daisy being a nerd, or even me being a wuss, but in the end, they're there for us, just like I was there for you, and you're here for me now." Mike said desperately trying to cheer her up.

"Do you… Do you really mean that Mike?" Lucy asked as she managed to somewhat regain her composure.

"I do, but it doesn't matter anyway because it's _true_!" Mike said to her. "Lucy, sometimes I'm going to say stupid things, and do stupid things, and… well be stupid, but please understand I don't do them to hurt you… This is just a… a rough time." Mike said with a comforting smile.

"Oh god, Mike, what am I doing?" She said wiping the tears away from her eyes.

"What do you mean?" Mike asked her.

"Here you are comforting me again, when I came here to comfort you. I'm sorry Mike…" Lucy said ashamed of herself. Mike stopped and looked at her for a moment; he could feel his chest tighten as he looked in her eyes. Without warning he grabbed Lucy and hugged her.

"Lucy, you helped me a lot more than you realize…" Mike said to her, doing his best to prevent tears from forming in his eyes.

"Michael…" Lucy said hugging him back, a smile forming on her face.


	9. Good Morning, Sunshine

Chapter 9: Morning, Sunshine

Mike was rudely awoken from his sleep by the ear piercing sound of his alarm clock. After quickly reaching over to silence the screeching behemoth, he slowly peeled open his eyes. They were sore with exhaustion. Mike hadn't really slept well since the diagnosis, and last night was no exception. He had stayed up into the late hours of the night talking to Lucy. Although he didn't regret doing it, he had to admit that he could definitely use a few more hours of sleep.

As he slowly sat up in his bed and he looked to his side, lying curled up, completely undisturbed by the sound of his alarm clock, was Lucy. He was suddenly reminded that she had talked her mom into her letting her spend the night. Mike couldn't help but admire how cute she looked sleeping. Normally he would have mentally chastised himself for such adulterous thoughts, but as of late, Mike's morels had been somewhat slipping. Then again, to Mike, they weren't entirely adulterous either. He had always thought she was 'cute', but her looks had nothing to do with why he had chosen Sandy. If things were simply looks, Mike could have gotten with countless girls in the past he thought looked even better. Hell, he could have even gotten with Paulo, who Mike had to admit was a good looking guy, but in the end, it wasn't about that.

Regardless, he took a few moments just watching her sleep. Since he had never really had much to compare it too, he had never realized how unhappy Lucy normally looked. Even when she was in a good mood, she seemed to have an aura of awkwardness and a generally uncomfortable vibe about her. But now, she was at utter peace. There was no worry, no judgment, no unhappiness, and no anger in her face.

Mike couldn't help but wish she was like this more often. At first, he imagined this as some odd abstract thought completely separate from Lucy, but the more he thought about it, the more he began to realize that it wasn't that all. It was merely contentment. He had never really been able to see the extent in which her unhappiness and general displeasure with her life seemed to reflect on her disposition, since from the time he met her, she had been like that. He couldn't help but pity her, and given recent events, relate to her.

Although Mike would have been more than willing to stare at her longer, he knew that he was at risk of drifting back off to sleep, not to mention of being late for school. He gently placed his hand on Lucy's shoulder, as she lay on her side, and rocked her back and forth, wishing he wasn't obligated to disturb her deep slumber. He had always hated waking people up.

"Hey, Lucy." Mike said gently, occasionally giving her a gentle rocking motion. "Lucy, you awake? Hellllloooo?" Mike couldn't help but admire how soft her fur was to the touch. It amazed him he hadn't noticed it before, but it was possible he _had_ noticed, and just shrugged it off given the counteracting roughness of her personality.

"… hrm…?" Lucy began to stir.

"Hey, it's time for school. You have to get up." Mike said to her in a gentle tone.

"Hm? Yeah… Alright…" Lucy said in a bit of a daze.

With that, Mike got up and headed for the bathroom. He left the door open as he began to brush his teeth. It wasn't long until he glanced over and saw Lucy once again sleeping. Mike grimaced, at least as much as he could with a tooth brush in his mouth. He quickly made his way over to her, still brushing, and gave her a soft nudge.

"Hey, get up." Mike attempted to say with his mouth filled with toothpaste foam.

"Hey!" Mike couldn't help but spit a little bit of the foam on Lucy's hip by accident. His eyes widened and he quickly wiped the small amount of residue off with his hand. Slowly, with heavy bloodshot eyes, Lucy turned her head back to look at him.

"Did you… just spit on me?" She asked with a mixture of confusion and anger. Mike wanted to say something, but he would have risked spitting on her again, so he simply shrugged, gave a sort of nervous half smile and walked back to the bathroom, this time closing the door.

"_At least she's awake." _Mike thought to himself as he spit the minty foam from his mouth into the sink. He then proceeded to rinse his mouth out. When he finished, he took a long, hard look at himself in the mirror. He couldn't help but flex his muscles, but as usual, he was disappointed in what he saw. He simply sighed and grabbed the hair brush that sat next to his sink. He then began to run it through his fur. As he worked through a particularly tough knot he heard a knock on the bathroom door.

"Yeah?" He responded, the brush entangled in some of his fur.

"You want to hurry it up in there?" Lucy asked him with a tinge of annoyance in her voice.

"Why? We have plenty of time until school starts." Mike said, brush still stuck in his fur. "Damn it." He mumbled to himself trying to break it free.

"Yeah, but I _really _need to use the bathroom. Ever stop to think of that?" She asked him through the door. Mike gave a loud sigh.

"You're a big girl, you can wait." Mike said with an almost mocking tone, opening the door, the brush still stuck in his fur.

"Exactly," She said moving past him and nudging him out of the bathroom. "I'm a girl; therefore I can't wait as long as a guy."

"You know, that's actually a common miscon-" Mike started, but was quickly cut off by Lucy closing the door in his face. "Ugh." Mike groaned. So this is what it would have been like if he had chosen Lucy over Sandy. Talk about dodging a bullet. Or given recent events, a would-be bullet, then again, Mike was in no mood for semantics. He was tired, but for the most part, in a good mood, and he didn't feel like messing it up with thoughts regarding the finer points of his life span.

Finally, Mike was able to get through the large knot, and he soon began working on another, and then another, until there were none left. Yet, even after all of that Lucy was _still _in the bathroom.

"Hey, you want to hurry it up in there?" Mike mocked her as he knocked on the door.

"You know, there really isn't much to work with in here." Lucy said through the door.

"'To work with?'" Mike asked confused.

"Yeah, you know, make-up, moisturizers… _nose hair trimmers." _Lucy said laughing.

"Wait, what? Are you going through my medicine cabinet?" Mike asked in anger.

"…Yes." Lucy said laughing hysterically.

"Grr, would you get out of there?" Mike asked attempting to open the locked door.

"Yeah, yeah." She said through the door, her laughter fading. Mike heard the clicking of his medicine cabinet shutting.

"… Why were you in there anyway?" Mike asked through the door with a sigh.

"I was just looking for a moisturizer or something." Lucy said opening the bathroom door. "All I found was acne medication and some nose hair trimmers." She said with quick giggle.

"Yeah, that's _real _funny." Mike said walking past her and retaking his bathroom.

Lucy walked over to the small end table positioned by Mike's bed and grabbed her bow. She slowly tied it off around her neck with a smile on her face. Maybe it wasn't a picture perfect morning, but for Lucy, she couldn't have asked for more.


	10. The Lone Wolf

Chapter 10: Lone Wolf

"Alright, are you ready to leave?" Mike asked Lucy as he wrapped the scarf he was holding around his neck.

"Yeah," Lucy said back to him.

"Alright, well, let's get out of here then." Mike said as he walked over to grab his backpack.

Mike left his room, Lucy following suit, and they both headed downstairs. When they reached the bottom, Lucy followed Mike into the kitchen where she saw his family all sitting down for breakfast.

"Alright mom, we're leaving." Mike said to her.

"Michael, you know I said you could take the day off if you wanted too?" His mother asked, surprised her son wasn't jumping at the opportunity.

"Uh, yeah, I know. I just… I just don't want to miss anything." Mike answered.

"I know, baby, but don't you want to get some rest? You look exhausted." She asked with a concerned tone.

"No really, I'm fine." Mike responded.

"… Are you positive? I know you've been really stre-" His mother began.

"Yes." Mike said with his teeth gritted. There was a lot he wanted to say, but not in front of Lucy, not now.

"Alright, alright, suit yourself." His mother responded quickly giving in. "At least let me get you both something to eat?" His mother asked.

"No thanks mom, we really need to get going so we're not late for school." Mike answered. Lucy secretly couldn't help but wish he had taken her up on the offer, since she was quite hungry, but she didn't feel quite comfortable enough to say anything.

"Well," His mother started as she reached in a cabinet and pulled out a small cardboard box. She then pulled out a small piece of plastic, opened it up, and handed them both an uncooked, toaster pastry. "_At least _eat this. Breakfast _is_ the most important meal of the day."

"Uh, thanks." Mike said taking the toaster pastry with little enthusiasm.

"Thank you very much." Lucy said nodding to Mike's mother accordingly.

Although deep in my Mike's subconscious he knew that his mother acting like this wasn't really all that odd, he couldn't help but feel she was doing it because of his cancer, as if she didn't want him to take the day because of he was tired, but because he was ill. Like he needed to eat to keep his strength up, because eating a toaster pastry would make him live a little longer. Then again, he could hardly classify the way things were as 'living', it felt more like waiting. Whether it was her over motherly nature, or the consistent offers for him to take the day off, Mike couldn't help but feel this was her way of taking pity on him, and he didn't want pity. He didn't want people to treat him differently, or to act differently in his presence. He just wanted… to be.

As they left the kitchen, Lucy took a large bite out of her toaster pastry, as Mike's mind continued to gestate forth observations fueled by his doubts, worries, and denial. He was picking up on extremely subtle things, such as his sister. Normally, if he had a girl spend the night, she would have heckled him quite wholly, but she had said nothing, and Mike knew she had held her tongue simply because of the recent diagnosis. He knew from the minute he gotten the diagnosis that this was going to happen; he was going to become a plague slowly killing everything around him.

He looked over at Lucy as she ate her toaster pastry with enthusiasm. She seemed so happy. She still had that negative vibe about her, but for the most part, she seemed content. But why was she so 'content'? Mike couldn't help but smile to himself. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't quite the plague he thought he was.

"Bye mom!" Mike yelled as he held open the door for Lucy, his good mood slowly returning.

"Bye, honey! Have a nice day. Oh, and you too, Lucy!" She yelled from kitchen.

"I will, and thanks for having me over!" Lucy replied back to her.

"Anytime," Mike's mom replied with honest sincerity. As long as it made Mike happy, she didn't care. All she wanted was to see him feeling better.

"_I bet they're in there talking about me and Lucy right now." _Mike thought to himself, referring to his mother and his sister. "_I wonder what they're saying… I bet 'sis is having a great time thinking about what me and Lucy did last night. Probably even having more fun putting images into mom's head, images of us laying together, cuddling, maybe rubbing against each other… kissing each oth-"_

"Your mom is nice, as usual." Lucy said breaking Mike out of his trance.

"Oh, um, yeah, she is. Hey, you want this? I'm not going to eat it." Mike said offering Lucy the toaster pastry.

"Yeah, sure." Lucy said gladly taking the slab of dry food.

"Are you sure you aren't hungry?" She asked, moments before biting in to it. As she suspected, Mike declined it. She wanted to encourage him to take it, she wanted to say 'you need to keep your strength up', but she didn't want to mention, or even hint for that matter, at the cancer. So she kept quiet and ate it. She figured they would both be better off if she didn't dwell on it. She could see the look of uncertainty that was constantly in Mike's eyes now. It was a look she hated, because whenever she saw that look, she saw herself. She didn't want Mike to feel anything like she did, ever. After all, for the first time in forever, Mike needed _her, _and she definitely wasn't going to drop the ball here, if not for her sake, for his.

"So, it's a nice day out." Mike said to Lucy, trying to keep his mind off of the depression that lurked on the edge of his mind like an angry viper waiting to strike.

"Yeah, it's not too bad I suppose." Lucy said finishing off the toaster pastry and licking her fingers.

The conversation seemed to come to a halt as they walked the silent street. There wasn't really much for them to say. They were both tired, and neither of them were really looking forward to school. Part of Mike was regretting not taking the offer from his mom to stay home, but at the same time, he knew that if he had, he would have sat there alone… with his thoughts. He may have been able to talk Lucy into staying, but he didn't feel it was right for him to drag her down into his little pit of nothingness, plus, once school was out, Lucy would have to go home to her pets anyway.

That's when Mike realized that Lucy had to take care of the pets, which meant that she was going to have to go straight home after school since she had stayed the night at his house and left them alone. Mike already knew that he couldn't really rely on Lucy to occupy him forever, but he couldn't help but feel that it was too soon. Too soon to go back to the way he felt before. He wanted to ask her to stay with him, not to do anything in particular, just to talk, and be company to one another. Really, he just didn't want to be alone. He knew that he couldn't ask this though. It was selfish and unfair to Chirpy, Yashy, Blur…

That's when something else dawned on Mike, something that caused his heart to sink every time he thought about it. He still had to tell Blur about the cancer. How was he going to do it? He was barely able to tell Lucy, but now he had to tell another person? And what about everyone else for that matter, how was he going to tell Paulo, Daisy, Abbey, David… Sandy…

Mike suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He could feel his body begin to lightly shake as he began to break out into a mild cold sweat. He didn't want to do this. No, he _couldn't_ do it. He just wanted it to all to be over, he wanted the cancer to be gone, and he wanted everything to go back to normal. This was just too much for him to handle at once. Not only did he have to bear the burden of this disease, as well as the constant feeling of impending doom torturing his very being, but he had to tell everyone. Confess to everyone that he was going to die, and worst of all, he had to confess to _himself _that he was going to die.

Mike felt like once he said it, once everyone knew the truth, that his life would never be the same. Almost as if any chance he had would be removed. Everyone would speak to him with pity in their voices, look at him with pity in their eyes, and treat him like the 'poor boy with cancer'. On the other hand, he also knew that he had to do it at some point. He couldn't simply live out the rest of his life lying. What if one of his friends had gotten cancer and they didn't tell him? He would be hurt, so he couldn't do this to his friends. He wanted to go out on a good note.

With that last thought, Mike felt his rapidly pulsating heart almost skip a beat. He could feel tears beginning to force their way up, but he held them back. He had no plans of crying here, not now. He needed to get control of his thoughts. Like always, he was letting his emotions get the best of him. Letting his doubts combine with his depression to cripple him. He took a deep breath. At least they were almost at school.

"Mike, are you okay?" Lucy asked him with a concerned expression.

"… Yes." Mike said in a near inaudible whisper after a slow nod.

"Are you sure? You really don't look so good." Lucy said stopping and looking in his eyes. She could tell he was in deep pain. She didn't know why he had gotten like this all of the sudden, but she could see the hopeless look in his almost glossy eyes.

"No, Lucy, I'm going to school. I just… I just… Just don't worry about it Lucy." Mike said, his voice littered with the remnants of his exhaustion and his hand shacking feverishly.

"Mike…" Lucy said giving him a pained expression. An expression Mike had only seen on her a few times in his life. An expression he truly hated to see. It was an expression of confusion and malady. Mike couldn't help but wonder if he had the same expression on his face. He tried to smile for Lucy, to make her feel better, but he couldn't do it. It took everything in him not to fall to ground and vomit.

There was a lot Lucy wanted to say to Mike. She wanted to tell him that if he was feeling bad he could go home, he didn't need to feel bad about resting, but she didn't know how to say it. She didn't know how to go about comforting him. It was so… confusing for her to see the very person who had acted as a beacon of light to her for so many a' year in such pain. She was watching the very person who had guided her out of her depression and kept her from being consumed by desolation; descend into his own madness of pain and misery. She wanted to reach out, but she didn't know what to do to help, so she stood by him and finished the walk to school with him. It was the least she could do.


	11. School

Chapter 11: School

Mike entered his first period class and made an attempt to focus, but his attempts went without fruition for he seemed unable to fight his thoughts in his exhausted state. He simply lay his head down on his desk for the most part of the day. Mike had to admit that he had no idea how people did this every day. It seemed like getting to sleep was impossible, and the clock turned with such leisure that Mike made several attempts to regain his focus on the teacher, but each time failed. Mike had figured that going to school would have distracted him from his issues, but now, all he could do was sit in this room, surrounded by people, and think. The last thing Mike wanted to do. He couldn't go walk around, he couldn't watch TV, and he couldn't even be left alone. He could tell people were looking at him, looking at the star student who was sleeping in class. Ugh, 'Star Student', hell of a lot of good that title did for him. Sure wasn't much school work and a finely tuned sense of responsibility could do now.

Mike simply sat face down, though his eyes remained open. He couldn't help but glance up at the clock every several moments, not even sure what to hope for anymore. He could hope for the day to go quicker so he could go home and wallow in his own self-pity, but at the same time, he would be hoping to die sooner. The more Mike's thoughts went on, the more he considered the prospect of death. Was life even worth living if it meant he had to live with feeling like this? What was stopping him from just taking his own life and ending his suffering? Mike thought about his family, his friends, and everyone. He had thought prior that it wasn't fair to them to take his own life, but they weren't the ones who had to go through this. They didn't know what it was like to feel the cold hand of death rest upon their shoulder, only to await the fateful day it strings them from the gallows.

Mike wanted to cry, to scream, to vomit, but all he did was sit there. His head down and his eyes lids open, yet hung low. He did nothing but stare into the darkness created by the small prison like structure his arms had made to support his head. He couldn't help but feel he was staring into his future, as if he would be perpetually in pain until inevitably he was released, finally set free of the darkness known as his life. Maybe the cancer wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe it was just God's way of fixing the mistake known as Mike. No one else would have to suffer the displeasure of his presence, not even him.

Mike could feel tears slowly building up in his eyes, but he did his best to hold them back. He wasn't going to embarrass himself. Although he was reaching the point he didn't care anymore, and he was more than justified to shed some tears, he still refused to do it. All it would end up doing is make everyone ask him 'What was wrong', and 'Are you okay'. He didn't want that. He just wanted to be left alone. No one could understand anyway, since no one knew what he was going through. No one knew what it was like to be this alone, waiting for death to come to your doorstep.

Finally, the bell rang dismissing everyone to lunch. Mike slowly brought his head up, this time letting his eyes adjust to the light. He had somewhat gotten consumed in his thoughts and had given up on checking the time. He wiped away the small tears that had formed in the corner of his eyes, smoothly making it look as though he was stretching, that way no one would suspect anything. He could see a few people eyeball him, but for the most part, he got by mostly unnoticed. When most of the students had left, he slowly got out of his chair, his body sore with exhaustion, and he made his way to the door. Right before he had walked out, the teacher stopped him.

"Michael, do you mind if I talk with you for a minute?" She asked, her voice not particularly reflecting any obvious displeasure or anger.

"Uh, yeah." Mike said making his way over to her desk. "_This outta be good…" _Mike thought to himself.

"I couldn't help but notice you looked a little… down today. I don't mean to pry, but is everything alright?" She asked him, her tone soft and gentle.

"Oh, um, yeah. I'm alright." Mike said to her, unsure of how to respond. "I've just been a little tired lately, that's all."

"Hmm, are you sure that's all?" She asked a touch suspicious.

"Yeah, yeah… you don't have to worry about me." He replied. His words were somewhat slurred as he was quite exhausted and only somewhat aware.

"Alright, well that's all then. " She said dismissing him.

"Thanks." Mike said, giving her the generic response.

"Don't be afraid to talk to me if you want too, Michael." She said as he was walking out the door.

"Don't worry, I won't." Mike wasn't sure what he meant by that, but he didn't really care. He just wanted to get out of that class, although as he walked down the hallway he wasn't quite sure why, since lunch was bound to be quite stressful.

As he made his way to the cafeteria, he decided that he would grab something to eat. He had given Lucy his breakfast earlier, and he hadn't really been eating much lately anyway. So he got in line and began doing the most ironic of actions, waiting. He couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation between the two freshmen girls in front of him. They seemed to be talking about boys. Mike couldn't help but frown at how cliché it was. Normally, he just ignored things like this, but now it was really bothering him. The two girls in front of him seemed absolutely ridiculous. At first, things were just a touch corny, but soon enough they were openly talking about when they had lost their virginity.

"_What the hell is this?" _Mike thought to himself. _"Is this really what things have come too?"_

Slowly Mike's heart began to beat faster as his eyes widened. He could feel his hands tighten into fists as he stared at girls in front of him. He had started subtle, but now, he didn't care if they noticed his gaze. Mike really didn't think he could listen to the word 'nigga' even a single time more, let alone another story littered with it, but soon enough, one of the girls felt the need to advertise to everyone in ear shot of their conversation that she was a whore who called up her Ex whenever she was desperate. Luckily, the line progressed, and they got their food and left. Mike wasn't sure what he would have done if he had been subjected to their stupidity much longer, and he didn't want to know. All he wanted was to get his food and to go sit down.

As suspected, the table he normally sat at seemed to be a prime example of chaos at its finest. Mike didn't really care what they did as long as they left him alone. He didn't want to talk to any of them. He would be willing to talk to Lucy, _maybe, _but he was generally in a really bad mood. He had actually considered not sitting at the table at all, but it would have just made things more complicated. Everyone would ask him if he was alright and never leave him alone. Constantly pester him until he gave up and either blew up on them, or, god forbid, told them the truth.

Mike took his seat and stared down at his food. Chicken Parmesan sat in one of the small compartments on the plastic tray. Normally, he loved Chicken Parmesan, but the slimy slab of gristle known as chicken staring back at him definitely wasn't real. He didn't know what it really was, and he sure as hell didn't know why they were feeding it to him. Mike could feel the anger building up in his chest. He got a sudden urge to punch the table as hard as he could, but he knew everyone around him would question him. Just like they always did.

"Hey Mikie!" Daisy said with her typical enthusiasm, an enthusiasm that screamed to the world 'Hey, I'm vulnerable and trusting, please take advantage of me.'

"Hey." Mike said with little enthusiasm, not looking up from the 'Chicken' on his tray.

"How was your weekend?" She asked him, eager to hear about all he had been up too. Lucy sat on the opposite end of the table, in between Abbey and Paulo, and she couldn't help but look at Mike. She felt bad that he had to deal with this, but she was also curious as to how he would react. When she had talked to him the night before, he had mentioned his reluctance to tell everyone the truth, so now she wanted to know how he was going to handle the situation.

"It was fine." Mike responded, once again with little emotion in his voice.

"Hmm, it doesn't sound like it." Daisy said with a pseudo-frown.

"Well it was." Mike responded.

"… Are you okay? You sound stressed out." Daisy asked concerned.

"… I don't want to talk about it." Mike said with a moment of deliberation. At this point the whole table had turned to look at him, wondering what fresh piece of gossip they could sink their carnivorous claws into.

"Oh come on, Mikie! We're all friends here. You can tell us." Daisy said pressuring him, not fully understanding the current scope of Mike's feelings. Mike couldn't help but wonder how things went from him talking to Daisy, to him talking to the whole table.

"I don't, want, to, talk about it." Mike said, his rage taking over. "Alright?" Abbey had seen the look in Mike's eyes before he said it, and he had wanted to get Daisy away from him before he snapped, but it was too late.

"Okay, I'm sorry." Daisy said slightly hurt at Mike's reaction.

"Hey! Why are you being such an asshole to Daisy?" Paulo asked him, jumping up out of his chair. Mike simply looked up from his food, his expression reflecting as much hate as he could possibly manage. Anyone but Paulo would have been able to see something was seriously wrong.

"No Paulo, it's alright. It was my fault." Daisy said trying to get him to simmer down.

"No, it's not! He had no right to yell at you. If he wants to be a wimp and whine and cry, that's his own business, but he had no right to lash out on you." Paulo said to her as Mike felt his face contort with anger.

"What did you _fucking _say?" Mike yelled back at Paulo, no one expecting such an explosive reaction.

Paulo was a touch caught off guard. He stood for a moment not sure of what to say. Finally, as Paulo was beginning to realize the severity of the situation, Mike was out of his chair and walking towards him.

"Let me fucking tell you something, Paulo."Mike said as majority of the cafeteria was beginning to glance in their direction. "First of all, how the fuck are _you, _you of all people, going to say _I'm _a wimp? You are by far the biggest wimp I have ever met in my life. You're real tough until somebody, you know, just stands up to your shit. The second ANYONE, anyone at all, stands up to you, you do nothing but cry like the little _wimp_ that you are!" Mike screamed at Paulo, flailing his arms as he spoke. "Second of all, I have my own god damn reasons for being mad. If you have some kind of issue with me, or my fucking anger, say it now or forever shut up. "Mike said staring in Paulo wide eyes. "Anything? Anything at all?" Paulo didn't respond. "Good, exactly what I wanted to hear."

The cafeteria was thick with silence. Paulo took his seat, but he was no longer looking at Mike. He seemed to be staring at the table of the cafeteria with a blank, yet saddened, expression on his face. Mike quickly left the cafeteria of on lookers and entered the boys bathroom. Fortunately, it was empty, and Mike walked over to the disabled stall and locked himself inside. He walked over to the sink and mirror within the special stall, and began to rinse his face with cold water.

"_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!" _Mike screamed to himself in his thoughts.

He could feel his hands shaking as he did his best to cup the water in his hands.

_What the fuck did I do?" _Mike asked himself as the adrenaline in his blood slowly began to wear off.

Mike couldn't stop thinking about the looks that he saw in the cafeteria, whether it was from the random people who had heard the argument, the people sitting at their table, or worst of all, the pained expression on Paulo's face. Paulo had looked as though he was going to start crying right there, and Mike couldn't escape it. What was wrong with him? All he was doing was hurting his friends. He was nothing but a monster.

"… It's all the cancer…" Mike whispered to himself as he stared into the sink. "I was fine before this."

"… No… I wasn't." Mike said, continuing to whisper to himself. "It's not the cancer. This is the way I've always been. I've always been a heartless monster. All I care about is myself. I'm nothing but a plague on society. Those girls… the one's in the line. I'm one of them. I do nothing but hurt this world… I _am _cancer."


	12. Friends

Chapter 12: Friends

Mike heard the door to the bathroom open up. He didn't know who it was, but he really didn't care. He simply continued to stare down into the sink. There was nowhere for him to go anyway. They would come, and they would go. Go to enjoy their life, maybe to have to a future, have a life, have kids, but not him. He would forever be here, staring into this sink, and the second he attempts to break his gaze free, he will meet something far worse. The mirror that hang in front of him, he will be forced to look at himself. The last person in this world he wants to see.

"Mike, it's me, Abbey." Abbey said as he walked up to the front of the only closed stall.

"… What?" Mike asked with a heavy sigh and an exhausted voice.

"Well, everyone is worried about you. We all want to know what's wrong." Abbey asked him.

"Just… Just don't worry about it. It's not your problem. There is nothing wrong." Mike said somewhat contradicting himself.

"Mike, we both know there is a problem, and even if I decide to walk away and leave you here to suffer alone, the second you walk out of this bathroom you're going to be pestered by everyone waiting outside. So don't you think it might be better if _we _just talk about it?" Abbey reasoned.

That was exactly what Mike had feared, constant questioning and everyone provoking him to talk. All he wanted was to be left alone. Was that really so much to ask for?

"… No." Mike had many suitable responses running through his head, but he just didn't have the energy to voice them. He didn't have the motivation anymore.

"Why won't you talk to me? I'm trying to help." Abbey said through the door. Mike sighed loudly.

"I don't want to fucking talk!" Mike snapped back.

"… Why?" Abbey asked after a short lapse in the conversation.

"Why does it matter? Why should I have to tell you, or any of you people, anything?" Mike asked him.

"Because we're you're friends! We don't care if your problem is embarrassing, tragic, or-" Abbey started.

"Damn it!" Mike said punching the side of the stall, causing a long banging noise to ring out. "What do you want from me? What do you fucking want…?" Mike started angry, and felt his voice slowly recede into an almost pitiful whisper.

"… All I want to know is why you're acting like this. You can't possibly live carrying this burden alone. I promise you things _will _get better if you talk to us. We can-" Abbey started again.

"Just stop." Mike interrupted Abbey. "Don't patronize me, alright? I don't want to hear it." Mike responded more annoyed than angry.

"'_You can't possibly live carrying this burden alone.' 'You can't possibly live.'" _Mike thought to himself.

"Then what do you want to hear, Mike?" Abbey asked.

"Silence would be nice." Mike responded back, feeling that same sense of humor he had felt several days ago when he had told his mother he was dying. He couldn't help but wonder if that same sense of regret was going to hit him like it had before.

"Well too bad, I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me." Abbey said adamantly.

"… Why?" Mike asked exasperated. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because I'm your friend and I'm not going to leave you in here."

Mike couldn't help but wonder if he had the same kind of dedication Abbey had. One of the few things Mike had left to cling on too and give his life meaning was all the time he had dedicated to helping his friends, but what if that had been some kind of sick delusion this whole time? What if in reality he hadn't been there for his friends as much as he thought? Then what exactly had he done? What was the difference between him and the two girls he had heard talking in line?

"If you really want to help me, just leave me alone." Mike said almost too quiet for Abbey to hear.

"No," Abbey said realizing that it might Mike angry, but he was going to talk sooner or later, whether he wanted to or not.

Mike could feel so many emotions well up in him so quickly he didn't know how to process them. One part of him wanted to sink into the ground and cry. Another part of him wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep, and hopefully never wake up. All the while another part of him wanted to open the door and punch Abbey in the face, to physically force him to leave. It was all too much for Mike to handle.

He gripped the sides of the sink with as much force as he could muster. Mike could feel tears slowly building up in his eyes as he felt the anger slowly building up in his chest. He didn't know what to do. He was trapped. If he left, he would be bombarded by more people, more drama, more stares, but if he stayed he would be stuck here with Abbey.

"Well, ready to talk, Mike?" Abbey waited for a response, but Mike didn't say anything. "Alright then." Abbey said standing outside of the stall. Mike tried to think of a way out, but even if he got out of this position, soon enough he would be in another later. There was nothing he could do to escape the cancer. He was trapped with it, just like he was trapped with his own mind. After about a minute of silence, Mike finally spoke up.

"If I tell you, will you leave me alone?" Mike asked him, his voice soft and tired.

"… Yes, I will." Abbey responded after a moment's thought.

"And will you tell everyone to leave me alone?" Mike continued, ashamed it had really come to this.

"Yes." Abbey responded.

"Alright… I'm… sick, alright?" Mike said to Abbey hoping that was enough, but knowing things could never be that simple.

"Mike… I need to know more than that… I mean, are you physically sick, mentally sick? Have you seen a doctor?" Abbey pressured him.

"Abbey, you said you were going to leave me alone." Mike responded, his voice tinted with annoyance.

"Well Mike, I was expecting you say more than 'I'm sick'." Abbey responded, a bit annoyed himself.

"That's all you need to know, Abbey." Mike said standing straight up and looking at himself in the mirror of the bathroom.

"Mike, I'm not asking much here. All I want to do is help you."

"You don't ever stop, do you?" Mike asked walking over to the door. "Why can't you just _leave me alone?"_ Mike asked opening up the stall door and looking at Abbey.

"Because you'll never get any better if I leave you alone!" Abbey snapped back at him. Mike was slightly caught off guard, but only for an instant.

"Why do you care if I get any better? What difference does it make to you?" Mike said leaving the stall and walking past Abbey, not really sure of where he was going.

"Well maybe I'll feel a little safer knowing you actually have control of yourself!" Abbey responded, instantly regretting what he had said. Not only was it an incredibly harsh thing to say, he realized coming from him, it was painfully ironic as well.

"I…" Mike tried to think of something to say. He could have pointed out the irony in Abbey, of all people, saying that, but he remembered what had happened with Paulo. Irony was definitely not his friend. Mike stood for a minute looking in Abbey's eyes. Mike didn't feel anymore anger, nor did his face convey otherwise. He could feel his heart sink as the situation truly began to dawn on him. His chest tightened and Mike could feel his eyes watering. What had he done? He had verbally attacked Paulo, he had made a complete ass out of himself, and he had been mean to all the people trying to help him.

All traces of anger seemed to leave Abbey when he saw Mike's expression change. He knew he had struck a chord when he had said that, and he felt slightly bad about it, but he also knew that this may be his only opportunity to get Mike to talk to him.

"Mike, please, tell me what's wrong." Abbey almost begged.

Mike simply stared in Abbey's eyes. His mind was working so quickly he could barely process his thoughts. He couldn't help but wonder if Abbey had really cared at all, if maybe what he said was true. Maybe he was simply out of control. Of course, Mike couldn't really blame Abbey if he didn't care about him since he was beginning to question whether or not he had been that great of a friend. All he seemed to do was snap at people, and make people feel bad. Had Mike really ever even done anything that would prompt Abbey, or anyone for that matter, to care about him?

"I…" Mike mumbled.

"Mike, trust me. You'll feel better after you say it." Abbey said taking a step towards Mike.

"I… I'm sick." Mike said with a very low voice, staring at the ground.

"Is it mental?" Abbey asked him.

"… No, it's not." Mike responded. Abbey wasn't really sure if that was a good thing or not, it simply was.

"Then what's wrong?" Abbey asked him. Mike wanted to answer, to say 'It's cancer', and for this all this to be over with, but he couldn't. He didn't have the energy, the motivation, or the courage, to say it.

"Is it an STD?" Abbey asked him.

"…No." Mike responded, his voice still low.

"Is it contagious?" Abbey asked him.

"No, it isn't." Mike responded.

The next question that came to Abbey's mind he didn't want to ask because he was truly afraid of the answer. He wanted to ask him if it was fatal, but he couldn't do it.

"Just tell me what it is, Mike." Abbey asked placing his hand on Mike's shoulder. Mike couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable with how personal Abbey was getting, but he had to admit that it did make him feel slightly more at ease. He felt more willing to talk, as if Abbey really, genuinely cared. Finally, Mike decided there was no way he could drag it out any longer, he had to say it. Although he was afraid of how Abbey would respond, he had to say it. If anything, just so he could end this conversation and move on.

"It's…" Mike started. Abbey simply looked at Mike, feeling an odd mixture of curiosity and worry.

"… Cancer," Mike finished. He felt Abbey's grip tighten on his shoulders. He slowly looked up and their eyes locked. The look in Abbey's eyes seemed like a mixture of astonishment, underestimation, and fear. Mike simply looked at him; he wasn't really sure what to do next.

"Oh… my god." Abbey said slowly taking his hand off Mike's shoulder. "I'm so… sorry."

"I know." Mike responded. There was a small moment of silence between them both. They simply stood there, rather uncomfortable.

"Is it… terminal?" Abbey asked him, almost whispering the last word.

"Probably… They don't really know yet." Mike replied looking back at the ground.

"Oh god…" Abbey said to himself. "Do you… want me to keep this a secret?" Abbey asked Mike.

"Yeah," Mike answered.

"You know you can't keep it a secret forever, right?" Abbey reasoned, a sad expression strew across his face.

"I can't live forever either, can I?" Mike responded, not sure of what he meant by the cryptic statement.

"I, uh, guess not." Abbey responded scratching the back of his head. At that moment they heard the warning bell ring. It was time to go to class.

"We should get going…" Abbey said to Mike.

"We should." Mike responded with little emotion in his voice.

Mike began to head for the door of bathroom when he was stopped by Abbey.

"You know, if you ever want to talk, you can call me." Abbey said concerned.

"Okay." Mike responded, still with little to no emotion in his voice.

"Alright then…" Abbey responded following Mike out of the bathroom.

When Mike opened the door he had been expecting a mass of people to be waiting for him, since Abbey had painted a picture in his mind of such, but there was only one person there waiting for him, Lucy. Mike was a touch relived he didn't have to deal with anyone else since he was far too tired to put up with it.

"Hey." Lucy said to him softly.

"Hey." Mike responded.

"Do you… want to walk to class?" Lucy asked, not sure of what else to say.

"Okay." Mike replied, this time the depression in his voice slightly more audible.

There was a lot Lucy wanted to ask him, but she knew it wasn't appropriate. The best thing she could do right now was be quiet. She could see it in his eyes, Mike was exhausted.


	13. Social Pariah

Chapter 13: Social Pariah 

Mike spent the rest of the day with his head down. He had a lot of thoughts running through his mind, and few of them had to do with his school work. As a matter of fact, the closest thing he had to that was an excuse, just in case a teacher called him out for sleeping.

As time passed, and Mike's thoughts festered in his head, he was slowly feeling worse and worse about what he had said to Paulo. What right did he have to say what he did? Mike had to admit to himself that it wasn't all out of anger and some of it was true, but still, Paulo was his friend. Sure, he was a jerk to him sometimes, but if Mike really had a problem, he could have talked to Paulo on his own, instead of in the company of the whole cafeteria. Then again, who was to say Paulo would have listened? Mike had made it clear before that he was getting sick of Paulo insulting him, but how clear had he been? It didn't really matter now though, since there was no way he could take back what he said.

Mike couldn't decide whether or not he was completely too blame for the incident, but it didn't matter. Paulo was his friend and he needed to apologize. He dreaded it with a passion, but he had no choice. He had enough things to deal with, and he just wanted this whole incident with Paulo out of the way. Mike glanced up at the clock. School would be getting out soon. He would catch Paulo and apologize to him then.

Mike's depressed reflections slowly became planning, as he strategized the best method for him to go about giving his apology. Honestly, Mike didn't know what he was going to say. He figured he would just walk up to Paulo, tell him he was sorry, and pray that things didn't go downhill, but there was no real way of telling. Paulo was a touch hard to read, and things could get very complicated very quickly with him. Regardless, no amount of planning could adequately prepare him for the encounter anyway, so he just tried to relax, and do his best to think of a good excuse… just in case Paulo asked him why he had said those things in the first place. He also hoped Abbey kept his promise about keeping the cancer a secret. Mike wasn't ready for everyone to know about it, not yet.

Finally, the bell rang, and everyone in the class quickly made their way out, with the exception of a few stragglers who took their time. Mike was among them.

"… _I guess this is it." _Mike thought to himself after a heavy sigh.

Mike made his way out of the room and down the hall to his locker. He would quickly grab his stuff and leave to catch Paulo.

"Hey Mike!" David said as he passed Mike, ignoring the events that had happened in the lunch room with innocent obliviousness, most likely heading for his locker as well.

"Oh, hey," Mike responded with a tired tone starting to unlock his locker.

"Hey Paulo! Hey, what's wrong, buddy?" Mike heard David's voice ringing just a few feet away. Sure enough, Mike looked up from his locker to see none other than Paulo walking towards him, and he definitely did not look happy.

"Oh hey, Paulo, I –"Mike began

"Save it Mike, I'm not interested in anything you have to say." Paulo said interrupting him. "You know, you sure have a lot of fucking nerve to call me a wimp, especially since you're nothing but a selfish asshole."

"I-I-"Mike stuttered, stunned by Paulo's up front reaction.

"Shut up!" Paulo yelled in his face, also attracting the attention of the students in the hallway. "You think I'm a wimp? You're the wimp, Mike. You do nothing but bitch about your happy, perfect, little life, and be an asshole to your friends!" Paulo yelled as he walked closer and closer to him, causing Mike to slowly back up into the row of lockers, wide eyes locked with Paulo's. "Look at Lucy. She has been nothing but nice and caring to you, and look at how you repay her. You go and call that… that… _skank _Sandy." Paulo continued. Mike could feel his hands ball up into his fists as he felt tears of anger forming in his eyes. "Why are you so interested in some long distance relationship anyway? News flash, _it's not going to happen!_" Paulo screamed in his face.

Mike could feel his heart beating heavily as adrenaline flowed through his body. He wanted to hit Paulo, to tell him that he couldn't talk about Sandy like that. Paulo could say what he wanted; as long as it wasn't about her. But Mike just stood there, every word that came out of Paulo's mouth was another thought, another insult, another dagger into his heart. Was Paulo right? Was everything Mike wanted just a pipe dream? Was everything he ever thought to be true simply a self-imposed lie? "It's because she's a model right? Is that it? Is Lucy not high class enough for you? It amazes me you could get somebody as good as her… and it disgusts me." Paulo said beginning to quiet down, the people in the hallway staring at them intently. "It's amazing a piece of shit like you could ever get any girl for that matter. I just hope they realize how big of a loser you are, Mike. No, I don't hope, I know. They will realize it one day, and you won't have anyone. Then maybe, just maybe, you'll grow the fuck up and be a real friend." Paulo said as he left Mike to think about all the things he had said.

Mike's thoughts seemed to stop moving as he stood in front of the large crowd of people staring at him, all their faces reflecting astonishment, or for some of them, enjoyment. He could feel tears well up in his eyes, as he looked back at all the people, all the people _judging _him, all the people _pitying _him, all the people _laughing _at him. Every muscle in his body seemed sore, his arms shook profusely, and he felt sick to his stomach. For an instant, Mike didn't feel as though things could get any worse, until slowly a clap broke out among the people. Slowly it grew, supporting Paulo and mocking Mike. As if they had any idea what they were cheering for.

It was with that Mike couldn't take it anymore; he quickly pushed his way through the crowd, tears in his eyes and thoroughly embarrassed, and made his way for the boy's bathroom. He entered, and unfortunately there was an individual in there washing his hands, but Mike paid no mind to him or his gaze. Mike simply entered the farthest stall; this time rather compacted in the small space. He could feel tears beginning to build up more intensely as he fell to his knees and began to dry heave into the toilet. Mike wanted to vomit; he wanted to vomit up all the pain and misery in his chest. He couldn't stand it anymore. He needed something, anything to set him free. He didn't want to live like this anymore, and if getting better wasn't an option, he didn't want to live.

After one large, final dry heave, Mike had realized that he wasn't going to vomit, and if he forced himself too, he would only feel worse. He broke out in a stifled sob. He could tell the person from before was still in the bathroom, listening to the pitiful display in the stall, but Mike couldn't take it anymore. He didn't care if the person heard it. He just prayed the boy would take mercy on him and kick in the stall to cut his throat. Set him free of this world and all of its torturous ironies, to free him from Gods never-ending voyage to destroy all that he was.

It wasn't long until the boy left the bathroom, most likely to talk to his friends about the event. Whether it was to judge, pity, or to make fun of Mike, surely, it was one of those. Mike stayed on his knees, sobbing. He had nothing to go back too, nowhere to escape. Whether literally or figuratively, everything had turned against him, whether it was his friends or the denizens of wherever he went. Even his own thoughts failed to grant him any relief. What did Mike have left to cling on too at this point? He had nothing. He was a terrible friend, a terrible person, and he didn't have any time to fix his mistakes. He had to live the rest of his life as a failure. Slowly he would walk into the gates of hell. Then again, who was to say he wasn't already there?

Mike heard the door of the bathroom open.

"_Wonderful." _Mike thought to himself. He knew it was probably just another spectator. Someone who had clapped at his pain, cheered at his misery, and forged hope from his demise. It didn't matter now anyway, it's not as if any meager reputation he may have had before the event could possibly remain. Now, all that remained was a social pariah. Or maybe this was his problem, the fact he cared at all. Maybe he should care more about his friends. Like it mattered at this point anyway, it was too late.

"Mike, it's me." Lucy's voice rang out, catching Mike off guard.

"Lucy… What are you doing in here? This is a boy's bathroom." Mike responded, his voice showing he had been crying.

"I don't care about that, Mike. I want to know if you're okay." Lucy asked him coming up to the stall door.

She wanted to know if he was okay. Would he have gone into the girl's bathroom if he had been worried about her?

"No Lucy. I'm not okay." Mike replied, still in tears.

"Mike… Please come out here so we can talk." Lucy begged through the door.

"Why? So you can help me? I'm beyond help… Just let me die in peace." Mike replied, trying to keep from sobbing again. Lucy felt tears building up in her eyes when she heard that. What could she possibly do? She knew Mike was desperate, she knew he was depressed, and she knew he was angry, but this? Had he lost all hope?

"No, Mike. Please God, no." She said beginning to sob into her hands as she placed them on the door.

"Lucy, why are you crying?" Mike asked almost angry.

"… I don't want you to die." Lucy said with utter desolation in her voice.

Here he was again, hurting his friend. Mike started off feeling even worse, but soon it dawned on him, she needed him. She cared about him wholly, and he still had a chance to make things right, with himself and his friends. He clawed his way back to his feet, although utter exhaustion was almost consuming him. He unlocked the stall door and as soon as he opened it, Lucy grabbed him in a hug sobbing. Mike was still crying, but he had managed to get a slight bit more control over it.

Mike didn't know why, but something was different. This wasn't regular old Lucy. This wasn't the same person he knew. Or rather, it was the same person, yet he knew, and understood, more about her than ever before. As if they had never been quite able to connect on a certain level. Everything had always been a competition. Lucy trying to prove she had a place in this world by being better than someone like Mike, and Mike trying to hold his title in this world by not being beaten by someone like Lucy. Now, all that meant nothing, they were on the same level, the same mind frame, and the same status. There had always been some kind of difference between them, something that always kept them from getting any closer then arms length, but now that wasn't there. Mike didn't know if it would last forever, but for a moment, he actually felt happy. And slowly, the tears stopped flowing as they held each other.


	14. Regret

Chapter 14: Regret

"It's amazing a piece of shit like you could ever get any girl for that matter. I just hope they realize how big of a loser you are, Mike. No, I don't hope, I know. They will realize it one day, and you won't have anyone. Then maybe, just maybe, you'll grow the fuck up and be a real friend." Paulo said as he left Mike to think about all the things he had said.

As Paulo walked off through the crowd he seemed to feel so much better. For so long he had wanted to really lay into Mike, to tell him how he _really _felt, and finally, he got his opportunity. That little melodramatic stunt Mike had pulled at lunch earlier in the day had finally given him the chance. Interrupting Paulo's thoughts was the sound of clapping behind him. The crowd that had formed around them to watch the spectacle seemed to be clapping. Paulo couldn't help but feel a touch bit of pride. Although he hadn't really done it for the sake of embarrassing Mike in front of all those people, it definitely made him feel better since Mike had basically done the same to him.

"Paulo!" He heard yell from behind him. He recognized the voice, but the tone was cracked and painful.

"Huh…?" Paulo mumbled as he turned around.

"What the _hell _was that?" Lucy asked him, almost in tears.

"What do you mean?" Paulo asked a bit surprised at how emotional she was sounding.

"Why did you say those things? Can't you see Mike is… having a hard time right now?" Lucy asked him, her eyes looking at him in terror.

"I said them because they're true, and honestly, he is always 'having a hard time', but everybody always cuts him slack just because he is Mike. I'm sick of it. He needs to grow up and get over himself." Paulo said with his hands crossed.

"I can't believe this…" Lucy said exasperated. "You have no idea at all…"

"What… uh… Whatta you mean?" Paulo asked her, getting a touch nervous.

"How can you not see it? HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY BE SO BLIND?" Lucy screamed at him.

"See what?" Paulo asked confused and slightly intimidated.

"I really thought I knew you better than this, Paulo." Lucy said quickly gaining her composure. People were beginning to crowd around _them_ this time, and she really didn't feel like continuing the chain.

"Lucy, what are you talking about?" Paulo asked getting slightly annoyed.

"Mike didn't mean to say the things he said to you Paulo, but believe it or not, he actually has bigger things to worry about then relationships, whether it's between you and him, or... me and Sandy." Lucy said, almost surprised she managed to mention Sandy.

"But Lucy… What exactly is so wrong?" Paulo asked her.

"I can't say. You'll have to ask Mike yourself." Lucy responded walking away, and the crowd slowly dispersing.

"But you _know_ Mike won't talk to me after that!" Paulo yelled after her.

"Do you think that's my problem? I'm not the one who decided to freak out on him, am I?" Lucy answered before she disappeared into the crowd.

"Oh man. This is bad." Paulo said to himself. He didn't know why, but he could tell by Lucy's reaction something serious was up with Mike.

As Paulo began to slowly walk the down the hallway towards the exit of the school, he thought about his encounter with Mike. When he had walked away, Mike had tears in his eyes. What he had said was pretty mean, but then again, was is really bad enough to make him cry? Paulo thought about how he had felt when Mike had told him all the things he had in the cafeteria. He didn't want to admit it to himself but it was… rather difficult for him to hear. But then again, there was a big difference from _actually _crying, as opposed to wanting too. At least to Paulo there was.

Paulo also thought about how Mike reacted to his words. As a matter of fact, he didn't react at all. He stood there staring at him. He had somewhat foreseen a potential fight with Mike before the encounter, if not physical, at least verbal.

"Maybe something really _is _wrong." Paulo said to himself, his worry growing.

Paulo stopped walking and leaned up against some lockers. Majority of the school had already left campus, and he could see the exit up ahead, but he didn't go. He just stood there and thought to himself.

"_I'm gonna have to say sorry to Mike…" _Paulo thought to himself. "_Oh man, this is gonna suck. Why did I have to go and say all that shit anyway?"_

"Damn it!" Paulo said aloud as he hit the locker behind him with the side of his fist.

Paulo started making his way back down the long hallway. Although he didn't like the idea, he had to apologize to Mike, and the sooner he got this out of the way and figured out what his problem was, the better. He knew that if Mike was leaving, he was almost guaranteed to take this hallway, so he was bound to run into him eventually.

After a little while of walking Paulo turned a corner only to see David, Mike, and Lucy all standing outside the boys bathroom talking. Paulo quickly ducked behind an ending row of lockers and watched the meeting. Paulo couldn't see them very well, and he couldn't hear them at all, but he didn't get any closer. He had no idea why exactly he was hiding from them, but whenever he thought about going to apologize to Mike, his chest tightened and he made no advancements towards them.

He could have sworn he saw David place his arm on Mike's shoulder, but that seemed a little… gay? Well, at least for David it was, so Paulo assumed his eyes were deceiving him, or possibly it wasn't David at all…

"_Hmm, who else looks' like David here…" _Paulo thought to himself

Suddenly, Paulo's thoughts were cut short. They were all walking towards him down the hallway. If he wanted to get away, he would have to cut back across the hallway, directly in front of them. He had no way to escape unseen.


	15. Closer Than Arms Length

Chapter 15: Closer Than Arms Length

"I'm so sorry, Lucy." Mike whispered into Lucy's ear.

"Huh?" Lucy whimpered. "Why?" She asked pulling her face from within Mike's tear soaked fur and looking him in the eyes.

"… I'm sorry I hurt you." Mike responded, his voice low.

"What do you mean? You've never hurt me Mike. If it wasn't for you I-"Lucy began.

"No, it wasn't right of me. I have a lot going on right now, but you've had a lot going on your whole life. I don't see… I don't see how I never saw it before." Mike said interrupting her. Lucy looked up at him with a vulnerable expression. Mike had never seen this look on her face before. It was the look of a hopeless person, a hopeless person who for the first time in their life saw a glimmer of light.

"Mike…" Lucy's face slowly contorted as she began sobbing into his chest once again.

"Please don't cry anymore. " Mike said softly rubbing his hand on the back of her head.

"Mike… I love you. I love you so much. I know… I know I've been… mean to you. I know I haven't been perfect, but… you're the best person I've ever met. I don't know what I would do if you ever left! I know it's wrong, I know you have Sandy, but I _can't help it_!" Lucy yelled as she sobbed into his arms.

Mike simply stood there and listened while he consoled Lucy.

"Paulo was wrong. I don't care what he or anyone says about you! You're not a wimp, you're not a bad friend, you're not a loser, and you're _not _a piece of shit!" Lucy continued yelling into his chest. "You're my best friend Mike. No, you're my only friend. You're the only person who has ever really been there, the only person who could ever really help me. I don't want you to leave, I don't want you to move to Richter with Sandy, I don't want you to die! I… I don't know what I would do, Mike. If you left me… I know it's selfish… I know it's self-centered… but don't want to suffer anymore. But even if I have to suffer, even if I have to spend the rest of my life in pain, I want it to be with you. As long as I'm with you, no matter how bad life get's, it will never be _this_." Lucy slowly quieted her voice as she spoke. "I don't care how sick you get Mike; I'll be there for you. I don't care what everyone else does or say's, I'll be there. No matter what, no matter _what_, happens. And the day you finally… pass. Whether it's sooner or later, I'll go with you." Lucy said to him, tears drenching the fur beneath her eyes.

"Lucy…" Mike said with tears in his eyes as well.

"When you finally die, I promise to kill my-"Lucy began.

"Lucy!" Mike yelled, sharply cutting her off. Lucy's face instantly turned to horror. She didn't want this to happen. She didn't want to be rejected again. She couldn't take it. She had poured her heart out and even after all that, he was going to send her away? This was all that was left, if this last act of sediments didn't work, it was over. Everything was over.

"Please, don't say that." Mike said to her, his voice almost a whisper. He embraced her once again in a hug, his arms completely wrapped around her. "Don't say I'm going to die, don't you're going to die, and _never _say you're going to take your own life. Don't ever let anything I say or do hurt you. Don't let anything anyone else ever says or does hurt you either, Lucy. You're better than that. You're stronger than that. You're one of the strongest people I know." Mike said to her.

He hadn't rejected her. Lucy felt so much emotion accumulate in her chest, she felt so happy. He didn't say he loved her back, he didn't say he was leaving Sandy, but he didn't tell her to leave. He didn't say he hated her. He didn't say there was anything wrong with her. He still cared about her. Lucy took refuge into the soaked fur of his chest and began sobbing again. Now though, they were tears of joy.

Part of Lucy wanted to ask him, to ask him if he loved her, to ask him if she had any chance of beating Sandy, but she was afraid of the answer. She decided she was better off just being happy with what she had. Mike cared about her, and that was all that mattered.

Mike felt truly content for the first time since the diagnosis. Or rather, for the first time in years. He had always thought he was happy, figured that his relationships with his friends were fine, and his relationship with Sandy was normal, but inside, deep within the crevices of his mind, he knew the truth. He knew he was in pain. All he really wanted to feel like was as if he really belonged, like someone _really _cared. To feel as though he really mattered, to feel as though his life wasn't a waste, and with Lucy, that was possible. Whether not he was an amazing friend, a star student, or an accomplished individual, he was everything to Lucy. She really loved him, really cared about him.

Maybe holding the very person who had just confessed her love to him was wrong, maybe it was adulterous, maybe it was sick, but he didn't care. He knew he loved her back, although he wasn't sure if it was as a friend or something more, but it didn't matter. Her body was so warm, and her fur was so soft. She was so vulnerable and loving. He didn't ever want to let her go. As long as Lucy was there he mattered, and as long he was there Lucy would be happy.

There was a part of Mike that wanted more. A part that wanted to kiss her, and rub her, and to be closer to her then he had ever been with anyone else, but he didn't make any advances. He knew that if he tried it now, he would regret it forever. It just wasn't right. Until he could be sure of whether or not he loved her, and after that to even make sure he loved her more than Sandy, he wouldn't do anything. He would just be happy with what he had, since for the first time in forever he mattered. Not just to Lucy, but to himself.


	16. Questions

Chapter 16: Questions

Both Mike and Lucy spent the next several minutes locked in a hug. Neither of them wanted to let go, but they knew they couldn't stand in the center of the bathroom forever, and Lucy being a girl in a _boy's_ bathroom didn't help the matter. It's not as though it was the most romantic place in the world anyway.

"We should get going." Mike said as he took a deep breath, taking in as much of Lucy's unique scent as he could. He hated to admit it to himself because he felt it was extremely odd, but he couldn't deny he loved the way she smelled. He could never really put the scent into words either… It was so subtle and almost teased him whenever he was close enough to her to smell it. Even when they were younger she seemed to smell so… refreshing.

"Yeah… I suppose." She said with a sniffle.

"Are you okay?" Mike asked her as he broke the hug and looked into her eyes. They were blood shot and seemed almost vulnerable.

"Yeah, I'm alright." She said as their hands slid off of each other's bodies and feel to their sides. "Are you? You look exhausted." She asked him.

"I'll be okay; I just want to get home. It's been a long day." Mike responded.

"Okay, let's get going then."

They both walked out of the bathroom, surprised by the fresh air in the hallway. They had almost gotten used to the constant smell of stale urine. They both took a quick look around the hallway. Neither of them really expected to see a crowd or anything, but they couldn't help it. While there was definitely no crowd, Lucy did spot one individual. It was David, and he seemed to be leaning against some lockers looking down at the ground, unsurprisingly with an expression that went to show there was little on his mind.

"David? Is that you?" Lucy asked aloud, causing Mike to look over at the brown dog.

"Huh? Oh hey!" David said with a smile as he walked over. When he gotten closer, he noticed that they had been crying. While David had pretty much assumed they had been from the start, it still seemed rather disturbing to see them in the shape they were.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Mike asked, hiding the annoyance he felt for seeing David at such an inopportune time. It also made him wonder if Paulo was around, since they always seemed to be together.

"I, uh, was actually waiting on you." David said with an awkward laugh.

"Waiting on me…?" Mike asked confused.

"Yeah, see, it's about what Paulo said to you today."

"Oh." Mike responded.

"Yeah… I just wanted to uh… say sorry for what he said to you." David said scratching the back of his head and looking at the ground.

"Why are _you_ saying it?" Mike asked him still confused.

"I… um… I don't… really know. I guess I just felt like I could have, I don't know, prevented him from doing it… I mean he really didn't mean those things." David said, obviously very bad at this kind of thing.

"Oh, I… uh… I appreciate it." Mike said, unsure of how to respond.

"Yeah!" David said with enthusiasm. "No problem. You just tell me if you need anything. I can help deal with Paulo for you too." David said with a grin as he placed his hand on Mike's shoulder. Mike couldn't help but look over at the hand, and then up at David.

"Oh, uh, I'm not really too good at this kind of thing!" David said with a nervous laugh and a slight blush as he took his hand off of Mike's shoulder.

Mike had to admit he was genuinely confused. He had never seen David act like this, and was surprised he even cared. Mike had always kind of looked at David as more of a friend of Paulo's then of his, since in reality they knew very little about each other. Honestly, Mike had figured if Paulo ever left for some reason, David would probably disappear, since he barely fit in with them. Then again, he didn't exactly 'fit in' with anyone.

They stood in an awkward silence for a few moments, both parties waiting for someone else to say something.

"Uh, would you like to walk with us, David?" Mike asked him almost nervously.

"Oh, sure! I'll walk with you guys for a little while." David answered eagerly.

The more Mike watched David and the more he thought about what David had said, the more it seemed to dawn on him. Maybe he was a closer friend then he had once thought. Mike hadn't the slightest idea why David was being so… friendly. Could it have simply been a kind gesture? This whole time had David really been this nice of a person? Sure, they had known each other for years, but had they ever really _known _each other? Would Mike have been willing to walk up to David, swallow his pride, and do something painful entirely for David's sake, although Mike was at no obligation?

At first, this only made Mike feel worse. It made him feel inferior. It reminded him of how insignificant he had been in helping his friends. And while this feeling did remain, he was able to get something else out of the event as well. He knew his friends cared about him. He knew that if something happened they would be there for him, that he wasn't alone, and that he wasn't on his own. He had Lucy, Abbey, David, Daisy, Sue, Tess, and even McCain; there were people he could talk too.

As they walked down the hallway in relative silence, Mike couldn't help but think about Paulo. He thought about what Paulo had said to him, and about what he had said to Paulo. He couldn't help but wonder if Paulo was even still his friend after all of that. Mike didn't want to think the friendship they had maintained for so many years could be ended so quickly, but he also couldn't get over what Paulo had done to him. Even if Paulo was still willing to be friends, was Mike? If it had just been for the words, just for the truth, then Mike probably would have been able to say yes. He probably would have been able to say sorry, and to say apology accepted, but it was more then what Paulo said.

Mike knew that every day he was going to have to walk down the halls of the school and put up with people looking at him, people laughing at him, and even certain individuals making his life harder than is already was. Mike knew that it wasn't Paulo's intention to do what he did; he knew that Paulo didn't mean to embarrass him like that, but the fact of the matter was that he had. Regardless of intention, Paulo had done it, and nothing could take it back. Mike would forever be a social outcast, someone who could never be taken seriously again.

It was all too much for Mike to take. Maybe he could forgive Paulo one day, but it sure wasn't going to be anytime soon. Not after that, not after what was to come. Mike didn't want to say he had lost a friend, because it hurt too much to admit. All he knew was that he needed some time away from Paulo, some time to get over what he had said and done. Some time to come to terms with being a horrible friend, and a horrible person. Some time to betray Lucy. Some time for him to call his _skank._

Mike felt hot blood flow through his veins as they walked. He had a sudden urge to hit Paulo, to make him feel pain. To make Paulo feel the same pain he did. Mike wanted Paulo to wake up with every muscle in his body hurting, for him to feel no hope, for him to feel his entire life be called into question. He wanted him to know what it was like to have to choose, so maybe than he would have some kind of idea of how hard it was. So that maybe Paulo could finally grasp that Mike didn't live in some little, perfect world. That his life wasn't that great, that he felt pain just everyone else. He wasn't immune to this world and its malcontent, he wasn't immune to depression. If anything, he had it worse. He had nowhere to go. He had great grades, a loving mom, even a variety of girls he could go out with, and yet somehow he wasn't happy.

What else could he possibly do? What else could he _possibly _get? There was nothing, he was doomed to be unhappy until the day he died. Not to mention the cancer, the very thing that had shown him the error of his ways, yet had also made them impossible to fix. Almost like God showing someone everything they were doing wrong and everything they had done wrong, only to kill them with lighting moments later. Just so their last moments would be horrendous. Paulo didn't have a right to say the things he did, because they weren't true.


	17. A Visible Change

Chapter 17: A Visible Change

So they continued their walk down the hall, little said between the three of them. Mike and Lucy were perfectly content with the quiet, and David seemed to be perfectly happy with whatever was running through his head. It wasn't long at all until they reached the end of the hallway and had to turn into another.

"Paulo!" David said enthusiastically.

Lucy looked over, and sure enough, there was Paulo leaning against the wall next to a row of lockers, seemingly trying to look inconspicuous.

"Oh, uh, hey!" Paulo said with a nervous smile. He was feeling increasingly uncomfortable as he processed each of their expressions. David seemed happy, as always. Lucy seemed shocked, unsurprisingly, and Mike seemed angry, possibly the most disturbing of all.

"Paulo, what are you doing here?" Lucy asked almost speechless.

"Oh, I was just, uh, standing here." Paulo answered, unable to voice his true intentions.

"We'll leave you to that." Mike said walking off, not waiting on either Lucy or David.

"Mike, wait!" Paulo yelled running after him. Mike stopped walking, but he didn't turn around. He simply closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts. "There… there is another reason I'm here. I just wanted to, um, say I was sorry. It was pretty messed up for me to say those things, especially in front of everyone. I didn't really think … it would bother you that much."

"… You don't think much, do you Paulo?" Mike asked with a sigh.

"Huh?" Paulo asked slightly confused.

"Incredible," Mike said laughing. "You really never change."

"Uhh, Mike, what are you talking about?" Paulo asked, beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable on top of being confused.

"You're an idiot, Paulo. You wouldn't be able to understand even if I explained it." Mike said walking away.

"Wha- Wait!" Paulo yelled out.

"_What?_" Mike responded with anger, this time turning around and glaring at Paulo with malice.

"I… just wanted to say sorry." Paulo said slightly caught off guard.

"Yeah, you already said that." Mike said to him. "So is that all?"

"I guess… it is."Paulo responded with a touch of sadness in his voice, as his shoulders slumped and his disposition visibly changed.

Mike simply kept walking down the hallway, away from Paulo and away from his problems. He didn't feel bad for what he said, and he didn't feel bad about shunning Paulo. The only thing he felt bad about was not being more heinous. He wanted to do so much more. He wanted to tell Paulo he was an idiot, and to tell him he had always been an idiot. To tell him he was cocky, he was selfish, he was mean, and he was inconsiderate. To punch him in the face and watch him writhe in pain. Only then could Paulo come close to grasping the truth. Only then could he possibly understand what Mike was going through. Only then would he have _earned _the right to apologize. Only then would Paulo have _earned _the right to speak with him.

"Paulo…" Lucy said, wanting to comfort him, but now knowing what to say. She wanted to stay with him, maybe to wait for the words to come, maybe just to serve as company, but she knew she couldn't leave Mike alone. Every time Mike was alone everything went downhill, and she didn't want another event like the one with Paulo.

"Don't worry, Lucy. You can go with Mike. Don't worry about me." Paulo said his voice low and quiet.

Paulo's words only made it harder for Lucy to decide. She knew it wasn't right to leave Paulo for Mike, but she didn't have a choice. Mike needed her help more than Paulo right now.

"You can go on ahead. I'll take care of Paulo!" David said with enthusiasm.

"Thanks, David." Lucy said as she rushed on ahead. Paulo couldn't help but watch her run to Mike's aid, and leave him there. He had been a good friend, hadn't he?


	18. Heading Home

Chapter 18: Heading Home

"' _I just wanted to, um, say I was sorry.'_" Paulo's words ran through Mike's head. "_'It was pretty messed up for me to say those things.' It was pretty messed up? That's what it was? Pretty messed?"_

"I don't fucking want this anymore." Mike whispered to himself as he made haste down the hallway towards the exit of the school. "I am so fucking tired of dealing with these… these… fucking idiots. I mean they're just all completely fucking lunatic." Mike whispered, continuing to talk to himself.

"_What is wrong with him? Why can't he just leave me alone? I am so tired of his voice, of his face, of his cocky attitude. I'm tired of __**him**__. I should turn around and show him how much I hate him. See that pitiful little cocky façade collapse." _Mike thought to himself. He couldn't help but laugh a little bit to himself.

"Mike, wait!" Lucy said running up to him. He simply stopped and turned around. He didn't really know what to say to Lucy, or what to think about her coming up to him. His mind was running so fast he couldn't concentrate on what was going on around him. "What are you doing?" Lucy asked him, an odd mixture of annoyance and desperation in her voice.

"What am I doing? What am _I _doing?" Mike asked her as if she were stupid. "You just don't have any idea do you?" Mike asked her.

"Mike, what are you talking about?" She asked him slightly more annoyed at his condescending attitude. Mike laughed to himself, only confusing Lucy further.

"I'm talking about life, Lucy. I'm talking about me, you, Paulo… I'm talking about life." Mike said as his laughter faded away.

"You're not making any sense." Lucy said to him.

"How am I not making any sense? You haven't even given me a chance to explain." Mike said to her, his voice almost sarcastic sounding at this point.

"Okay, then what exactly is it you're trying to say?" Lucy responded, getting tired of him acting high and mighty.

"I'm trying to say this is all bullshit!" Mike said to her in sudden anger. "I'm trying to say I'm tired of this. I'm tired of Paulo, and I'm tired of _life_. Where am I headed Lucy? Where am I going in life? Why even stay alive? I should just fucking go home and kill myself, as if anyone would even _notice_. Everyone is so wrapped up in the shit that is this world, the shit that is life, that they wouldn't even care." Mike said to her, moving his arms wildly as he spoke. Lucy simply stood there and listened to him. Slowly, her anger became fear. Each word out of Mike's mouth seemed to scare her more and more. Were these simply words, or was he really considering this? Did he really mean what he said? Was he really going to go home and kill himself?

"… I would care." Lucy said with an almost timid voice.

"Lucy," Mike said with a slight chuckle. "You can't even understand, let alone care. You haven't the slightest idea, wait, no, scratch that. _No one _has any idea what's going through my head right now. None of you know what it's like to slowly die a little every day. And I'm not talking about the cancer. I'm talking about everything. Do you have _any _idea what it's like to wake up every day in pain? To wish you were dead? I didn't think so." Mike said glancing at his hand. The same hand that he had once imagined completely removed. The very hand that would have ceased to exist if he had been more like the very person who was causing him all this pain. He looked up at Lucy's face, and he hated what he saw. He saw pain, worry, confusion, and worst of all fear settled deep within her eyes.

"I can't fucking deal with this right now." Mike said as he began to walk down the hall, leaving Lucy where she stood, tears in her eyes. He quickly made his way to the exit, pushing the doors open with a violent shove, causing the hallway to echo with a loud bang.

He felt warm, humid air rush past him as he stepped outside. The sun was out and all in all, it was truly a beautiful day, but not to Mike. He trudged home, his mind racing, unable to truly gain any type focus for long. All he could tell was that he was pissed, and it had something to do with Paulo, Lucy, and himself. He just wanted to get home. He didn't know what he was going to do when he got there, but he just wanted to be alone. He didn't want to talk to his friends, his mom, Lucy, or even himself. He wanted his thoughts to stop, and he wanted to go to sleep. Whether or not he awoke didn't matter to him anymore. He just wanted to sleep. Hoping to not wake up was just another way life could deny him any happiness, so he choose to not care, or at least he tried not to.

Slowly, as his walk carried on, he grew more and more tired. His mind seemed to slow down, but unfortunately, he still lacked any ability to focus. He simply kept telling himself to make it home, that once he got there he would be okay, but he knew that was a lie. He knew that he would probably go in his room and sit there, wallowing in his own self-pity. In reality, he didn't want to be alone, but there was no one he knew he wanted to talk to. Like being hungry, yet not having anything you want to eat. Sure, he could satisfy his hunger, but in the end, he would be displeased. Displeased that he had to settle instead of actually having what he wanted. At this point, that seemed to be the story of his life.

Finally, he arrived on his street. He felt as though he wanted to collapse. His thoughts were but a blur, and his very walk seemed to have degenerated into a slow stagger. As he wandered down his street to his house, and then up to his front door, he turned the knob. He was glad to see today of all day's his mom had remembered to unlock the door for him. As he walked in, his eye lids heavy and his disposition pained, he made his way for the stairs, going straight to the confines of his room.

He closed his door, let out a heavy exhausted sigh, placed his backpack on his floor, and then made his way to his bed. He laid face down in a pillow and let the silence of the room envelop him. His thoughts continued to flow in his head, yet he chose not to focus on them. He couldn't have if he had tried. He was simply too tired. His head had nothing positive running through it anyway. It was sad it had gotten to the point that not only did he have to avoid other people, but he had to avoid himself.

Suddenly, Mike heard something.

"Hey, it's me!" He heard Blur's voice ring out from the other side of the door. "Open up."

"No…" Mike whispered to himself.

"_Not now, anytime but now. Why, of all times, did you have to come now? Why of all the possible times did it have to be now?" _Mike's screamed at himself in his head.

He slowly lifted his head, revealing his face. His eyes were wide with fear, anguish, and awe. He couldn't believe this was happening. Blur was right outside of his bedroom door waiting to talk to him. He was going to open the door and Blur was going to walk in. Then Mike was going to tell Blur about the cancer. It was about to happen. There was no stopping it. He didn't want to do this. Not again; not ever.


	19. Lethargic

Chapter 19: Lethargic 

Mike slowly made his way out of his bed, his eyes still wide. He didn't feel as though he had control of his actions any longer. He felt as though he had become a robot simply performing pre-programmed functions, since that's all that was left, a shell of a person, only surviving, and not truly living. As he stood up, he couldn't help but glance out his window. He wished he could just fly away. Just leave all of his troubles behind. All he wanted was the perpetual darkness that was his life to go away. His entire life had been a lie.

Mike walked over to the door of his room and he placed his hand on the knob. He relaxed his eyes. He could tell they were bloodshot and stressed, but there was nothing he could do about that. He turned the knob and opened the door, and sure enough, there lay Blur on the ground in front of him. Mike could see the change in his eyes as they made eye contact. Blur could tell something was wrong.

"Mike, are you okay?" Blur asked him worried. Mike simply looked back at Blur, not sure of how to respond. There was a part of Mike who wanted to lie and say he was fine, the same part of him that had lived in denial all of his life. But there was also a part of Mike that wanted to confess everything to Blur, the part of him that craved encouragement and even pity. It was the same part that he had hidden from for years, the part that made him feel weak and vulnerable, the part that was catching up with him.

"I… Blur, come in here." Mike said with a low voice as he lethargically walked to the end of his bed and took a seat, placing his hands on his lap, heavily slouched. Blur complied and flew into the room and then on to the bed next to Mike. When Blur had entered, Mike stood up, closed the door, and went back to his place on the bed.

"A few days ago, I got the tests results back for that blood work I had gotten." Mike said to Blur calmly. He didn't know where the words were coming from, since his head seemed to be devoid of all thoughts.

"What did they say?" Blur asked, feeling worry surmount in his chest.

"…" Mike could feel his lip quiver for a moment as he felt tears build up in his eyes. "I have cancer."

Blur's eyes widened as he looked at Mike. He saw the exhaustion in Mike's slouch, he saw the fear in his face, and he saw the hopelessness in his eyes. Neither of them cried, but neither said anything either. After several moments of silence, Mike slowly got to his feet and walked to his bathroom. Blur watched him as he made the trip. Even his very step seemed to be a reflection of his disposition.

Mike used the bathroom, and then walked in front of his sink. He rinsed his hands as he stared at himself in the mirror. His eyes were as red as he had ever seen them, and his face a picture of utter exhaustion. Mike could feel a slight urge to cry, but he didn't care enough anymore. Why bother? It wasn't as if crying would help him. It couldn't even make him feel better, so why do it at all? Regardless of his feelings, Mike could feel his eyes moisten. He didn't know if the emotions display was because of the pain, or if it was because of the hopelessness, but it didn't matter.

Mike washed his face with cold water, and looked back in the mirror. He let out a heavy sigh and dried off. He left the bathroom and saw Blur sitting where he had left him. Blur looked up at Mike with heavy eyes. Still, they remained silent; all words seemed to go by unspoken. Mike walked over and sat on the side of his bed. He looked down at his lap, not sure of what to do. He let his body fall sideways and his head landed on a pillow. He brought his legs on to the bed, and he laid there on his side, facing away from Blur.

"Mike… I'm… really sorry." Blur said not sure of how to console him.

"…It's fine." Mike responded, little energy audible in his voice.

"Who else knows?" Blur asked him after a few moments of silence.

"A few friends, that's it." Mike responded.

"I'm guessing that's what Lucy was upset about yesterday."

"Yeah," Mike responded.

"… Is there anything I can do?"Blur asked.

"I don't think… there is." Mike had wanted to say he didn't think there was anything anyone could do, but he decided not to. It didn't seem right to worry Blur like that. Then again, Mike wouldn't be able to hide his depressed state very long if things continued like this.

As their conversation slowly turned back into silence, Mike's thoughts began to return to an understandable state. Although he didn't want to admit it to himself, he wanted to call Lucy. He wanted to ask her to come over, hell, he would be willing to beg at this point. It just seemed as though she was the only person whom he could really talk too, since she was the only person who could understand. They were a lot more alike than he had ever really realized before. Of course, they may not have been quite as alike in the past, but things have a tendency to change, as was plainly visible to him given recent events.

As Mike pondered calling Lucy, his thoughts began to go in another direction. A direction that filled him with fear, made him sick to his stomach, and made him cringe. He knew that he was going to have to call Sandy and be honest with her. Of course, the more he talked to Lucy the more complicated things became. Originally, it was just the cancer plaguing him, but now he was beginning to have feelings for Lucy, something he was ashamed to admit. He was so tired, so very, very, tired.


	20. Blur

Chapter 20: Blur 

The light stung Mike's gradually opening eyes, and his body ached. Without realizing it, he had fallen sleep. The light shining through his window told him it was still day, so he couldn't have been out that long. He glanced at his clock, and to his dismay, he had discovered he had only slept for about twenty minutes. Mike let out a heavy sigh as he continued to lie in his bed. Somehow, his short nap only made him feel twice as bad. While Mike was glad his mind's relentless assault upon his spirit had subsided, he didn't particularly enjoy the general soreness he felt throughout his body.

"Hey," Blur whispered as he hopped up on the side of Mike's stomach and looked over at him. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm alright." Mike responded with a large yawn. "Well… actually… I want to ask you a question"

Blur looked at Mike with curious and compassionate eyes.

"A question? What do you want to know?" Blur asked.

"I want to know if I've been a good friend." Mike asked, not looking at Blur, but staring out of the side of his window.

"A good… friend? What do you mean?" Blur asked confused.

"I mean, have I done a good job taking care of you? I know you can take care of yourself, but, well… You know what I mean." Mike asked, his voice tinted with exhaustion and depression.

"Uh, well, yeah, you've been great to me, Mike…" Blur responded with a pained expression. "Why… do you ask?"

"I was just… curious. Thanks for answering, I'm glad… I'm glad you feel that way." Mike answered, his voice still detached from the world.

"But… why did you ask?" Blur asked, struggling to contain his emotions. It hurt him to see his friend in such a perilous condition, as well as acting so strange.

"I… I just wanted to know." Mike responded moving his eyes to look up at Blur. He could see tears glimmering back at him, the final touch in a portrait of confusion and fear.

"Mike… are you going to… to die?" Blur asked him, still trying hard to contain himself. Mike paused a minute and thought about the question. He thought about what the doctors had told him, he thought about lying for Blur's sake, and he thought about lying for his own sake.

"I don't know." Mike responded, his voice devoid of all life, as he begun to look out his window once again.

Blur took a hard look at Mike. He didn't want to see Mike in pain, nor did he want to see him die. Blur turned around and was about to fly off of Mike's stomach, that way he could get better control of himself and his thoughts, but before he could go, Mike gently cupped him in both hands. Blur was startled by Mike's grasp.

Mike brought Blur close to his chest. Blur's body was stored safely in Mike's hand as his head stuck from in-between his fingers. As they looked each other in the eyes, they both saw two very different things. Mike saw a confused, saddened friend with tears prevalent. Another friend he had caused pain and sorrow. Mike wanted to feel bad about it, he wanted to regret it, but he couldn't. He felt as though feelings were beyond him, as if he had already died in spirit, and his body would soon follow suit.

Blur saw a friend as well, but a friend who had lost all hope, one that had given up on life and was ready to accept death. There was no confusion in Mike's eyes, only truth and pain. Blur could feel his chest tighten as the tears in his eyes began to overflow on to the soft feathers below.

"I'm sorry." Mike said to Blur, holding him close.

"No… no."Blur said as he started to lose his composure. He began to sob into Mike's hand. He didn't want to watch his friend die. Not from disease, not from cancer, not from anything. He didn't want to know what would happen to him if Mike died, and he didn't want to think of what it would be like without him. How it would affect Mike's mom, his sister, his friends, Lucy, Yashy, Chirpy… What would everyone do?

Mike continued to hold Blur in his hands, small tears beginning to form in his eyes as well. As Mike held the sobbing bird, his brain was firing off on all cylinders. He thought about everything he had done over the day, everything he had learned, but he couldn't help but wonder if he had really learned anything at all. He had vowed to himself that he was going to be a better friend, but he had once again only helped the people around him when it was convenient for him. If he had truly changed then he wouldn't have been so mean to Paulo.

While it was hard for Mike to come to terms with the embarrassment Paulo had subjected him too, he had to admit that Paulo didn't do it on purpose. Paulo's intentions were not to publicly shame him, or at least not to the extent in which he did. Paulo had simply wanted to voice his opinions, to voice his emotions, just as Mike had done.

In some ways, Mike had deserved what had happened. It was simply his punishment for being a bad friend and a bad person. If he had been there for Paulo, maybe not have lashed out on him, then just maybe that wouldn't have happened. Then just maybe he wouldn't be laying there praying for death.

"I'm sorry about that, Mike." Blur said as he regained control over his emotions.

"Sorry? Sorry about what?" Mike asked looking at the small bird nestled in his hand.

"I didn't mean to… breakdown like that. I'm sorry…" Blur answered.

"You don't have to apologize for that, Blur. It definitely isn't like you cry very often." Mike said with a small laugh. He was still tired and depressed, but something about Blur seemed to be cheering him up, even if it was ever so slightly.

"Yeah, I just don't want to stress you out anymore then you already are is all." Blur responded with a sniffle.

"Don't worry about it Blur, if anything it helped." Mike answered as he set Blur on the bed.

"It helped? How?" Blur asked slightly confused.

"I guess… I guess it's just nice to know you care that much." Mike responded.

"Well, of course I do. You're my best friend, Mike." Blur said to Mike.

"Your best friend, huh? I'm glad you feel that way, little guy." Mike responded.

"_Little guy_? You think because of… what just happened," Blur begun. "That you can call me 'little guy'?"

"Nah, I think that because I'm easily ten times bigger." Mike responded jokingly.

"Hilarious." Blur said back to him, rather unimpressed by Mike's joke, as he flew over to the opposite side of the bed.

Mike let out a small sigh as he continued to gaze out of his window. That act of sentiment, the kindness he had showed Blur there. It wasn't out of his convenience, it wasn't out of selfishness, and it wasn't for personal gain. Mike did it solely to cheer up Blur, completely to cheer up a friend. Not to justify himself, not to make himself happy, only to make Blur feel better.

"Are you alright over there, Mike?" Blur asked.

"Actually Blur, for a change, I think I am." Mike said as he rolled on to his back and stared at his ceiling.

Mike let his eyes close. He had no intentions of falling back to sleep, he just simply wanted to relax. Maybe to take some of his time to think and put everything into perspective, but before he had a chance to really consider much, he was interrupted by a knock on his front door. His eyes slowly opened back up. He had considered getting up to see who it was, but he didn't even know if it was for him. Mike let his eyes close again as he let out a heavy sigh. Of course it was for him.


	21. Lucy's Regret

Chapter 21: Lucy's Regret

"Lucy," Mike said with a slight chuckle. "You can't even understand, let alone care. You haven't the slightest idea - wait, no, scratch that - _no one _has any idea what's going through my head right now. None of you know what it's like to slowly die a little every day. And I'm not talking about the cancer. I'm talking about everything. Do you have _any _idea what it's like to wake up every day in pain? To wish you were dead? I didn't think so." Mike said glancing at his hand.

I can't fucking deal with this right now." Mike said as he began to walk down the hall, leaving Lucy where she stood, tears in her eyes. He quickly made his way to the exit, pushing the doors open with a violent shove, causing a loud bang to echo throughout the hallway.

Lucy stood in place, her eyes wide. She didn't know what to do. Part of her wanted to run after Mike, to tell him he was going to be okay and he didn't need to worry, but she couldn't find the words. She was worried about how he would respond. Lucy wiped the small tears from her eyes and headed for the exit of the school. She knew that at the pace she was going, she would never catch up with Mike, but she didn't really want that. What she really wanted was for Mike to come back, for him to come back and apologize. For him to come back and say he wasn't going to hurt himself, that his words had only been a moment of weakness. That he was sorry and that he loved her.

Of course, as much as Lucy wanted this, she knew it wasn't going to happen. Mike was too distracted by his own problems to really understand what was going on with Lucy; then again Lucy didn't blame him for this. She knew that his worries and pains were much worse than hers. The very fact she even compared her problems to Mike's made her feel bad, but she couldn't help it. Mike wasn't the only one who was in pain.

Lucy left campus and continued her walk home. She thought about going back to talk to Paulo, but she decided against it. She needed to figure out what she was going to do about Mike. If she made the wrong decision, Mike could end up in real trouble, but regardless of what she did; Paulo would be fine in the long run. So, although she felt bad about leaving Paulo with David, she continued her walk home.

Lucy pondered the time she had spent with Mike mere minutes ago. Not the time they had spent arguing, but rather the time they had spent _together,_ before Mike and Paulo's confrontation. She had never opened herself up like that to anyone before, since she had always feared how they would react. She had always been terrified they would use that information against her. She had put so much effort into putting up this… front. Now though, Mike knew her. Not the person she pretended to be, but the person she was afraid to be. He knew the person she really was.

All the time she had spent worried people would look down on her and pity her… She finally confessed, told someone she had been in terrible pain for so long. Mike didn't look down on her, if anything, he could relate. He had felt just like her. He was in pain, he was confused, and he was lost. All he wanted was to find happiness when it seemed as though there was nothing that could grant it. Lucy took solace in this fact. While she was definitely not happy that Mike was in pain too, she was glad she didn't have to be alone anymore. Even after she had poured her heart out, Mike hadn't pushed her away. He kept holding on to her, kept comforting her. Even after Lucy had verbalized how far she was really willing to go for Mike, he didn't reject her.

Lucy didn't know if she had any chance of beating Sandy, but at least now she had hope. Mike seemed like the only thing that could make her happy, the only thing that could make her content with her life. She knew it was wrong, mean, and she also knew that Sandy deserved a guy to make her happy as well. If anything, Sandy deserved Mike more. Not to mention Mike would probably be better off with her.

With that last thought, Lucy's eyes widened.

"_No…" _Lucy thought to herself. "_No, he wouldn't be happier with her." _

Lucy wanted to believe that, but she didn't. Not now, and not yet, but that didn't mean she was going to give up. If it came down to it, she would change herself to be better for Mike. She would do anything to not only be with Mike, but to make him happy. She didn't want Mike to choose her over Sandy just because she guilt tripped him into it, or played on his insecurities. She wanted Mike to choose her because he loved her, and because she made him happy.

Lucy walked up to her front door and entered her house. When she walked in she set her stuff on the ground and quickly made her way towards her room.

"Girl-Kitty!" Chirpy yelled out excited running up to Lucy with enthusiasm.

"Oh, hey Chirpy," Lucy said as she picked Chirpy up and held her. "Where is Yashy?" Lucy asked.

Suddenly, with no warning, Yashy came out of what seemed to be nowhere, head butting Lucy in the arm.

"Ow!" Yashy said as she hit the ground.

"What the hell?" Lucy yelled in anger.

"Where were you?" Yashy yelled at Lucy with anger, quickly getting over the pain of the head butt and the resulting fall.

"Ugh…" Lucy groaned with a sigh. She walked over to the bed and gently set Chirpy down. "Listen Yashy, I was over at Mike's."

"_What?_ You sicko!" Yashy yelled at her in shock.

"What? No, no, no, no, Yashy, I was taking care of him." Lucy responded.

"Oh god! That's even worse!" Yashy yelled back.

"How is that worse? He's sick." Lucy asked.

"You're 'taking care of him' and _he's _the sick one?" Yashy asked.

"Yashy…" Lucy said with a sigh. "Just listen." Lucy kneeled down. "Mike isn't feeling very good, alright? He needs someone there to make him feel better." Lucy explained to him.

"So, does that mean you're going back over there tonight?" Yashy asked slightly rejected.

"I…" Lucy hadn't thought about that. Should she go over there? Should she wait for him to call? "I have to." Lucy answered. "Actually, I have to go now."

"Now?" Yashy asked.

"I'm sorry Yashy, and I'm sorry Chirpy." Lucy said standing up, feeling a slight sense of determination form within her.

Mike needed her. Lucy remembered all the times she had sat in her room, alone or with her pets, not knowing what to do, slowly being consumed by her own depression. She remembered the terrible pain and loneliness she had felt. She remembered praying that things would get better, praying that she would get up the courage to talk to someone, but she couldn't do it. She also remembered what Mike had said. What he had said about his life being worthless, that he could kill himself and no one would care. Lucy remembered feeling the same way.

She headed for her door, a little guilty she was leaving her pets behind.

"Is… Flea going to be alright?" Yashy asked, feeling as though something was seriously awry.

"He'll be fine." Lucy answered with a smile as she walked out of her room. It wasn't long until her smile faded, and her face of reassurance became one of worry. Lucy walked in her kitchen and found just who she needed to locate, Lily.

"Hey, is everything alright?" Lily asked Lucy, temporarily ceasing to eat from the bowl of peanuts in front of her, able to tell by Lucy's demeanor something was wrong.

"Um… Yeah," Lucy responded, instantly regretting the indecisiveness of the response.

"Are you sure?" Lily asked concerned, quickly picking up on Lucy's lie.

"… I need to ask you a favor." Lucy asked, dodging Lily's question.

"What do you need?" Lily responded, her tone soothing to Lucy's ears.

"I need you to take care of Yashy and Chirpy again tonight." Lucy requested.

"Are you going to Mike's again?" Lily asked curiously.

"Yes," Lucy responded.

"Lucy, is something wrong?" Lily asked, her tone still soft and gentle.

" Yeah, there is." Lucy answered looking at the ground. "But I can't talk about it right now, Lily. Can you just please do that favor?"

"Alright, I'll take care of them. You be careful, alright?" Lily answered, her voice still soothing, but now somewhat worried as well.

"Thanks," Lucy said as she headed for the front door, and quickly began the walk to Mike's house, for there was no time to waste.

Lily had always served as such great company, such a great friend and conversationalist. For that reason, Lucy sometimes felt it was impossible to really lie to her. Lucy realized that when things had gotten almost too difficult for her to bear, Lily was always there, ready to listen, ready to give advice, ready to do whatever she needed to do in order to help. Who did Mike have? Surely Sandy, no matter how great of company Mike felt she was, could have really served as a true confidant. Mike could probably talk to his mom, but then again, Lucy seldom talked to her family about personal matters. She just didn't feel comfortable doing it, and she assumed Mike probably felt the same way.

"_This whole time, has Mike truly been alone?" _Lucy thought to herself. "_Even more… abandoned then me? No wonder he chose Sandy over me. Sandy is caring and compassionate. She listens to Mike and hears him out. What do I do? I just argue with him, hit him, ignore him..." _

Lucy wanted to compare herself to Mike. She wanted to think their problems were one and the same, but she was beginning to realize that wasn't the case.

"_Whenever I really needed someone to talk too, I always had Lily. Even if she hadn't been around, everyone was my friend… Everyone offered to listen, everyone tried to help… But I just shunned them. It was the opposite with Mike. He didn't shun them, if anything, he wanted to talk. He wanted someone to listen, but no one ever did. Paulo blew him off, Daisy was always hitting on him, David didn't know any better, Abbey was so preoccupied with helping everyone else and working through his own issues he didn't even notice, and I… I just weighed him down with my own problems. This whole time, I could have been with Mike. He could have been happy, I could have been happy, but I just didn't see it. I was too stupid and selfish to see he was truly in pain. All I ever did was wallow in his shadow, and then try to tear him down. Mike, I'm so sorry. I just hope it isn't too late."_

Lucy didn't really believe that Mike was going to kill himself, but regardless, she knew it was possible, and that very possibility filled her with fear. The last thing she wanted was to lose Mike. It was a possibility she found herself unable to even humor.

She arrived at his house and walked up to the front door. She couldn't help but pause a minute, wondering if she should proceed. She hadn't called, and she didn't know if Mike was still mad, but regardless, she had no choice. It was her responsibility to be there for Mike, no matter what.


	22. Teenage Tendencies

Chapter 22: Teenage Tendencies

Mike continued to lie in his bed, closing his eyes. He waited for his moms' voice to call him down like one would wait for a crash after hearing the screeching of breaks on a highway. He wasn't sure of who could be at the door, but he had a weird feeling it was for him. Then again, who would want to see him after the way he been acting? Mike sighed heavily.

After a few moments of silence, Mike didn't hear anything. He felt an aura of relief begin to wash over him. It must have been for his mom or sister, so he was free to continue resting. Mike sighed again, but this time, a sigh of contentment. Unfortunately, his peaceful state was soon interrupted by knocking on his door.

"Hey, Mike, it's me." He heard Lucy's voice ring out. Mike wanted to be annoyed at his mother for just letting Lucy in without checking with him first, but he couldn't be. He was simply too pleased with her dropping by. He hadn't really expected for her to come since he had been so rude to her earlier, and he was worried he had offended her.

"Come on in." Mike yelled out. As the door knob turned and Lucy began to enter, Mike felt a slight surge of fear flow through him. What if Lucy was mad about what he had said to her? What if she was here to chew him out, just like Paulo had done earlier?

"Hey," Lucy said in a low voice as she walked in and stood by the door.

"Hey," Mike responded sitting up in his bed. "You can sit down if you want."

Lucy took a seat on the opposite side of the bed. Her posture was very stiff, and it was definitely no secret she was nervous.

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked Mike.

"Yeah, I'm alright." Mike answered. At first, he thought she was just asking to be polite, but he soon remembered how he had looked when he glanced at himself in his bathroom mirror just a few minutes ago. Fur askew, eyes blood shot, he had truly been a mess.

"… I'm sorry I was so mean to you earlier. You've been really nice and I guess I've been kind of selfish." Mike said ashamed. "I guess I've just been kind of lost lately."

"It's alright." Lucy answered. "I don't blame you."

"Lucy, can I ask you a question?" Mike asked after brief moment of silence. Lucy turned her body sideways on the bed to face Mike.

"Yeah, what's wrong?" Lucy asked him, gently playing with his bedspread with her fingers.

"It's just, why have you been so nice lately? I mean, don't get me wrong. I don't mean it offensively or anything. It just seems a touch… different." Mike asked her, beginning to feel somewhat guilty for asking such a blunt question. Lucy couldn't help but look down at her twiddling fingers.

"Well I…" Lucy was at a loss for words. It wasn't as if she didn't have reasons, it was just she couldn't find the words. She wanted to say because she loved and cared for him, but she knew that saying something like that would probably only stress Mike out more, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. So she sat there, unable to answer. Her fingers stopped messing with the bed, and she looked up, making eye contact with Mike.

"Uh, just forget I asked." Mike said to her, his subtle body movements and tonal changes showing it wasn't that important anyway. Lucy simply looked back down at her fingers as silence enveloped the room. After a few moments of nothing happening, Mike began to stretch back out on his bed, resting his head on his pillow and staring at the ceiling.

"You can lay down too, if you want." Mike offered, looking over at a tense Lucy.

"Oh, um, alright," Lucy answered a touch surprised. She was definitely glad Mike had extended the offer, but she was caught off guard at how comfortable he was becoming with her. She positioned her body on the bed, and gently rested her head on his pillow as she began to stare at his ceiling as well. She couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. There she was, on a soft bed that seemed to emanate Mike's soothing scent. She couldn't help but take a deep breath, trying to take in as much as she could. She did feel a bit weird for obsessing over his smell, but she didn't care. It seemed to calm her nerves and make her feel… well, happy.

Mike continued to stare at Lucy, unable to take his eyes off of her. He didn't know why, but she seemed so beautiful. Her fur was visibly soft, her scent was refreshing, and her voice seemed to calm his nerves. Although he hated to see the worry on her face, he had to admit to himself that it almost made her look cuter than normal. Something about the way her eyebrows seemed furl and her lips seemed to pout… Then again, Mike probably would have been thinking the same thing even if she were smiling, laughing, crying, or just sitting there. Mike could feel his fingers starting to rub together with nervous energy. He wanted to touch her, more than he had ever wanted to touch her before.


	23. Subtle Decay

Chapter 23: Subtle Decay

"Wow, you're bed is really soft." Lucy said to Mike, feeling the material around her.

"Uh, yeah, I suppose is it." Mike responded, somewhat distracted by his rising blood pressure and the fantasies of Lucy surging through his head.

Lucy could sense Mike's eyes on her, so she looked over, making eye contact with him. Lucy wasn't sure what it was, but Mike looked… a touch odd. Something about his expression had changed in the moments she had looked away. The depression and confusion that lie in his face prior was gone, and in its place there seemed to be vulnerability and desperation.

Mike did his best to control the primal urges forming within him, but he was having trouble keeping his gaze from wondering. While he did his best to keep his eyes on Lucy's face, he couldn't keep them from occasionally sliding down her body, admiring her magnificent white fur, her naturally fit and developed chest, as well as her flawless legs. He knew that if he reached over, and rubbed his hand down her body like he so desired, Lucy wouldn't fight back.

"_She wants this too." _Mike thought to himself. "_It's not selfish; I would be helping us both." _

Lucy looked deep into Mike's soft, green eyes and she saw something.

"_She wouldn't fight it…" _Mike thought to himself. _"If anything, she wants it more than me."_

She wanted to say it was lust she saw in his eyes, but that was impossible…

"_Lucy, you're so beautiful…" _Mike could feel his arm starting slowly rise up. He could feel himself getting ready to lean in. To embrace her and kiss her and fondle her and do everything he had always told himself he didn't want to do.

Lucy could see the tension mounting in Mike. What was he doing? What was he _thinking_? Maybe it was just her imagination, but…

"_No. I can't do this." _

Lucy saw Mike's face change, and in a brief moment the lust left his eyes, and all that remained was disappointment, embarrassment, and horror.

"_This isn't right. I can't do this. Oh God, what the hell is wrong with me? What about Sandy? I can't… I just…" _Mike's thoughts became a mass of overwhelming confusion. He stared at Lucy, terrified. Not of her, but rather, of himself.

"I-I have to go to the bathroom." Mike said quickly getting up and walking across his room.

As soon as he entered the small space he covered his face with his hands.

"Oh God…" He whispered to himself. "I want her _so _bad… but what about Sandy? I-I can't take this anymore. I need _this._ I need something, _anything."_

Mike walked over to the front of his toilet and stood there for a minute. He knew it was sick and wrong with Lucy right outside his bathroom, but he couldn't stand another moment of denying himself the pleasure or the release. He brought his hand down to his lower body, and began to rub himself with fervor. At first, he thought only about Lucy. He thought about her body, her voice, her smell, and her actions. He remembered moments where they had brushed against each other, hugged each other, or even accidently ended up on top of each other. He even began to imagine new situations, whether they were practical, or fantastical.

As he continued to pleasure himself as his thoughts carried on. Eventually he found himself imagining more than just Lucy; he was imagining Sandy as well. He wanted to see Lucy and Sandy rub up against each other, sliding their hands down each other's bodies. He wanted to see them kiss each other, to watch Lucy nibble on Sandy's lip. He wanted to see Sandy slowly fall down to her knees…

"Ugh…" Mike let out of stifled moan. He quickly inhaled, doing his best to catch his breath. As the pleasure began to fade from Mike's body, exhaustion took its place. His mind seemed blank, and his body seemed almost unresponsive. He could feel his heart beating in his chest as he began to take slow, deliberate breathes. He brought up his free hand and used it to mop up the sweat from his brow.

"_Oh God… oh God… Oh God…" _Mike thought to himself, his mind still blurry. _"That was incredible."_

Mike steadily calmed down as he became increasingly lucid. He flushed the toilet and watched the water disappear down the drain. If only he could flush away the shame he felt along with it. After a moment of standing there, he grabbed a piece of toilet paper and cleaned up the small amount of excretion that had landed on the floor. After wiping it up, he looked in the bowl of his toilet and sighed. He couldn't flush the toilet again since surely someone would suspect something was wrong, so he instead threw the piece of paper in his garbage.

He walked over to his sink and washed his hands. After doing that, he rinsed off his face, getting off all the sweat that had accumulated. He stood in place for a minute, staring into the sink.

"_Oh man, what did I do?" _Mike thought to himself. "_An even better question… What am I __**going **__to do?"_

He thought about his relationship with Lucy. It had been a long time since he had felt this way for her, but did it mean anything? Sure, he had found himself attracted on occasions, but this was different. That feeling, the one he had just experienced moments ago, that was more than just physical attraction. It was so much more than just a release. But did he really want to call Sandy and throw their relationship away to be with Lucy? What if it was all a huge mistake? Was it really worth it?

Mike didn't want to admit it to himself, but he also found himself thinking about sex. Although it filled him with incredible shame, he asked himself, did he really want to die a virgin? He had always been perfectly content with waiting for Sandy, waiting for that special moment, but he didn't have the luxury of time any longer. Even if he lived for several more years, who knew when the side effects could hit him? Even if there was a small chance of him being cured, who knew if he would make it or not?

Deep in Mike's heart he knew that Sandy would be perfectly willing to come down and see him since he was sick. He knew that if she did come down to see him, there was a good chance they would make love. But whenever he thought about calling her, Lucy popped in his head and reminded him that things weren't that simple.


	24. Sweet Dreams

Chapter 24: Sweet Dreams

Mike sighed as he placed his hand on the door knob to the bathroom. He was still somewhat flustered, but he knew he couldn't stand in there all day, so with an anxious energy, he opened the door and entered his room. He was greeted by the lackadaisical gazes of both Lucy and Blur upon walking out of the bathroom. Mike felt relief wash over him as he walked to his bed. Neither of them seemed to suspect a thing.

Mike took a seat on his bed for a moment, soon lying down. He rested his head on his pillow and looked up at his ceiling. He could feel Lucy's gaze on him, so when he looked over, their eyes locked.

"How are you?" Lucy asked him. Mike was still having trouble getting used to hearing such a soft, docile tone from Lucy.

"Oh, um, I'm alright. Why do you ask?" Mike asked.

"I just wanted to be sure. I mean I did come here because of what you had said earlier." Lucy told him.

"Oh yeah…" Mike responded. "Lucy, I'm really sorry about that. I really didn't mean to wor-"Mike began.

"Mike," Lucy interrupted him. "You don't have to be sorry."

They spent the next few moments in silence. Mike wanted to thank her, to say he was glad she was there, and to say he was glad she was being such a good friend, but he couldn't find the words. So in return, he simply smiled. He felt like it was the only way he could really show her he cared. He didn't know why, but seeing Lucy smile back at him, to see the worry on her face dissipate into happiness, it seemed to fill him with warmth and comfort.

For several minutes they said nothing, they simply sat in silence, gazing at each other. It was as if no words needed to be spoken, for they already understood what the other was thinking. Mike thought about rubbing his hand down her body, kissing her, and caressing her. Unlike earlier though, it wasn't about sex or arousal. Now, it was something different. He just wanted to hold her close, to feel her warmth.

Slowly as time passed, Mike's thoughts changed. He began to imagine himself with Lucy in the future. He saw himself laughing with her, crying with her, getting married, having kids… He knew it was wrong to be thinking like that because of Sandy, and he also knew those dreams were all for naught because of the cancer, but he didn't care. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life in tears. He didn't want to waste his last moments in pain. He knew it was mean to Sandy, he knew it was wrong, but he couldn't be bothered with that anymore. Sandy would move on and find someone else, someone better. If he stopped his life for her, that's exactly what he would be doing, stopping his life.

Mike knew he should feel bad, he knew he should feel guilt. After all, he was forsaking the one he had loved for so many years, but he couldn't. Lucy's gaze, her eyes, her face, her smell, her presence… it all seemed to feel him with such joy. He knew that sometimes Lucy could be mean, sometimes she could be hostile, sometimes she could even be heartless, but in the end, when it all mattered, she was there. Suddenly, Mike remembered something. A conversation he had shared with Lucy.

"_You know, skip the B.S. and get straight to the good part. Life is like a movie with two hours of previews and five minutes of actual movie. By the time the previews are over, you enjoy a little movie, and you repeat. In the end, you spend all of your time waiting! Not to mention when you sit there, only to realize the movie sucked, so then you repeat it all again, praying that you actually have something good to look forward too!" Lucy said as her anger slowly grew within her._

"_But, if you took away the previews life would suck." Mike replied._

"_And how is that?"_

"_Because if you had nothing but life, then life would get boring. You know how you said that you wait all that time to see a bad movie? What if you spent all of your time watching movies? Eventually they'll become boring and you won't get any pleasure from them. Basically what I'm saying is pain is necessary for pleasure._

When Mike was with Sandy, for the most part, he was happy. Seldom were there moments of distress, and he really enjoyed her company, but there was something missing. Something that seemed to make that feeling of completeness he longed for elude his grasp. That something was anticipation. It was build up. Mike looked forward to marriage, he looked forward to sex, and he looked forward to having a family, but what about Sandy? It was hard for him to admit it, it pained him to say it, but he was bored. He knew that Sandy would be the same person tomorrow that she was then.

With Sandy, life was all movie, but the problem was that it was the same movie, the same movie over and over again. Even the little bit of time he had spent with Sandy, the little bit of time he had spent getting to know her, he had seen the whole picture. There was nothing to learn, nowhere to go. With Lucy, it was different. She was a deep, complicated individual. He was willing to sit through the previews over and over again if it meant he could see just a little more movie. Just so he could learn a little more about her.

Mike couldn't help but wonder if his thoughts even made any sense. What if it was all him trying to make up an excuse, something he could use to justify his leaving of Sandy for Lucy? Then again, it didn't matter. If it had come to the point where he was subconsciously lying to himself so he would pick Lucy, then his choice was fairly obvious. He knew hardships were in the near future, hardships that would cause him great pain, but he didn't care about that, at least not now. He had Lucy lying directly across from him, a small smile on her face, and that was all he needed.

"Mike, you should take a nap, you look tired." Lucy said to him, causing his drooping eye lids to shoot back to their previous state.

"That's alright; I'm not just going to leave you here." Mike responded.

"It's okay Mike. I don't mind just lying here. If anything, the peace and quiet is kind of nice." She said to him.

"Are you sure?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, really, I don't mind at all." Lucy answered reassuringly. Mike turned his body on its side, facing Lucy, placing one hand close to his body, and resting the other in the small space in-between him and her.

"Just wake me up if you need anything, alright?" Mike said to her.

"Go to sleep, Mike." She said to him with a slightly more familiar 'Lucy-like' tone.

"Alright," Mike said with a slight chuckle. He spent the next few moments staring at Lucy, basking in not only the situation, but enjoying the movie in front of him. Finally, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. Lucy continued to stare at him. Mike felt something warm lie atop of his hand, the one that was in-between him and Lucy. When he opened his eyes, he saw Lucy's eyes shut, and her hand resting on his. Lucy had a slight blush and a small smile on her face. As he closed his eyes, he felt small tears of joy beginning to form. He didn't know if he would ever feel this good again, but he didn't have time to worry about that. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.


	25. Smile

Chapter 25: Smile

"Oh, Michael, before you go, I wanted to let you know you have another doctor's appointment tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Mike asked, a touch surprised at how quickly it had been scheduled.

"Well, I actually made the appointment yesterday, but when you got home from school you looked pretty tired and I didn't want to bother you." She answered.

"Oh, well, thanks I guess. Me and Lucy have gotta get going or we're gonna be late." Mike responded.

"Okay, bye honey." His mom said walking over and kissing him on the cheek.

"Bye, mom."

Mike opened the front door and held it for Lucy. As she stepped outside, he followed. He dearly wanted to stay home, since the thought of facing the school and all of the people who had witnessed his discommodious act the day prior was not a very attractive prospect, but he knew it would make no difference. Even if he somehow managed, by some miracle, to take off more than one day, he wouldn't be able to keep it up forever. He eventually needed to go to school and face his fears, to get the worst of the shame and heckling out of the way.

As he closed the door behind him, he could feel a nervous sensation lurking in his chest. For some reason he always felt as though once he closed that door there was no turning back. As if the fact it was locked would make it impossible for him to knock or yell if something happened. His ridiculous feelings were further made unreasonable since his mother and sister would be leaving the house on their own accord anyway. He couldn't explain it, but it didn't really matter why. All he knew was that his heart was pumping while one section of his consciousness screamed for him to give in and tell his mom he felt sick so he could stay home. Surely she would understand, and it's not like Lucy would blame him.

But of course, the more rational side, the side that had guided him against the air of temptation and molded him into the hardworking, intellectual he was, won out. He heard the door click shut and he felt his heart jump, then slowly he calmed down. Of course, all of this was subtle and unbeknownst to anyone other than him. As he turned away from the door, that previous nervous energy that he had assumed to have left turned into a creeping nausea. He was by no means on the edge of vomiting, but it was enough to make him feel _legitimately_ sick now. Of course his worry of the nausea growing worse seemed to cause him only more nervous energy.

Both he and Lucy made their way to school as Mike pondered on the irony that was his anxiety and nausea. While Mike did that, Lucy was distracted by other thoughts, or rather memories. She thought back to their night together. For the most part, it had been boring, but somehow that didn't seem to bother her. After they had napped, they woke up to dinner, and then sat around playing an old video game for the rest of the night. Lucy didn't mind it, since she not only got to spend time with Mike where they weren't at each other throats (with the exception of a few heated moments of game play), but she also got to sleep with him.

She knew it was more than a little immature to run that thought through her head, the one that she had 'slept with him', but she couldn't help it. There was something about it that made the stress and exhaustion drain out her body. Of course words and labels meant less than what actually happened, and what she actually felt. The warmth, the comfort, the security… the happiness, the moments she spent in bed, merely inches away from his body, going into a state of consciousness that was far more vulnerable than any other. Mike had more control over her than he realized, both literally and figuratively, both physically and mentally.

Upon arriving at the school, they both entered the grounds, and soon, the main building. Mike kept his head down, doing his best not to look anyone in the eye. He didn't know if people were staring at him, and he was too afraid to ask Lucy, but he felt like he could feel their eyes looking at him, looking _through him,_ as if their eyes could see everything he had kept secret and hidden from the world. The eyes of judgment fed upon his self-esteem and his sense of self. Mike didn't want to be sad anymore, and he was tired of suffering, but his confidence to maintain a positive outlook seemed to fade away with his confidence in himself.

Lucy could tell Mike was in distress, and she desperately wanted to comfort him, but she didn't know how. She thought about putting her arm around him, holding his hand, saying something supportive, but she couldn't seem to muster up a good approach to any of her ideas. So she just walked in silence with him, an uncomfortable feeling growing within her. When they began to near Mike's first period class, she couldn't help but look over to see his face. She expected it to be the same face she had seen when she had last looked at him; a face of shame and embarrassment, but it wasn't that. He was smiling. Lucy was caught off guard by this. Surely he wasn't happy. Soon enough though, Lucy realized this wasn't Mike's normal smile. There was something oddly accepting about it.

His smile, combined with his soft expression, looked almost condescending, while simultaneously devoid of all superiority. Like he knew a secret, a truth of the universe, one that he couldn't share and it was up to everyone else to figure out. Lucy didn't like his expression, not one bit. As a matter of fact, it filled her with fear. She could feel her heart drop upon seeing it, upon seeing the depression and delusion dancing in his eyes. She felt like she was losing Mike, like he was slipping away.

"Mike…?" Lucy asked aloud, coming to a slow stop and facing him.

"Yeah?" Mike responded with a quiet and soft tone. It seemed strikingly understanding and soothing, if anything, it seemed too much so.

"Are you okay?" Lucy asked, fear in her voice.

"Yeah, I'm alright." Mike responded, eye brows furling. "Is something the matter?"

"No, it's… it's nothing." Lucy responded.

She didn't know what to say. At first, she questioned the smile, and considered maybe she was overreacting, maybe it was just his way of dealing with all the stress, but she knew him better than that. Something was wrong, and she didn't even have the time to figure out what. She couldn't figure how he was feeling, or why. Lucy fought back tears as she and Mike began walking again. Fighting back tears, something she was far too used to.

"Okay, we're here." Mike said stopping in front of the door that led to his first period.

"'Kay, I'm going to head to my class now." Lucy answered looking at him with a smile. There was a brief moment of silence where they simply looked into each other's eyes. Mike took a step forward and hugged Lucy. The hug was quick, but unexpected. There was also something else about it. It didn't feel like a quick hug, something you would give to someone casually. It may have looked like that, and lasted as just long, but she could feel his embrace. He clung on to her, he pulled her close, and he didn't want to let go. She could feel his hands slide off of her back slowly when they separated. But even after the hug, when they looked into each other's face one more time, that smile was still there, and it still scared her.

She feared what he would do and of what he was capable of. After all, less than twenty-four hours ago he had hinted at committing suicide. She had been considering it for years and never once threatened it or brought it to light, so she knew how big of a deal it really was. She watched as Mike entered the classroom, the door closing behind him. She felt tears forming in the corners of her eye lids as she struggled desperately to keep her emotions in check as she made her way to her class.


	26. I Sit Alone

Chapter 26: I Sit Alone

Mike spent most of his day with his head down, doing his best to fall asleep, or at least relax. At first, he felt rather sick, since the anticipation, the wait for someone to come up to him and say something, or to laugh at him… it was crushing. Fortunately though, he was not heckled, he wasn't laughed at, and for the most part, he was left alone. Just like when he had been walking through the hallway earlier, he felt as though people were looking at him, judging him, but whenever he looked up, no one seemed to be staring.

While it was indeed true that he was being left alone, it was only to a certain extent. He did have two small encounters, one with a girl in his first period class. He wasn't sure if she had seen or heard about what had happened to him, or if he just looked a wreck, but she came up to him and asked him if he was alright. Mike was glad she quickly walked away when he told her he was fine, but he wasn't entirely sure about how to feel about her coming up in the first place. It was nice that he wasn't being mocked and questioned heavily regarding the events of yesterday, but he also couldn't shake the feeling people pitied him. Not as bad as verbal abuse, but still, it bothered him.

The second encounter was in-between classes when Abbey came up to him and asked him the same. After an answer and a few awkward moments of silence, Abbey offered himself up as a suitable person to talk too, assuming Mike needed it, and then they were both went their separate ways. Abbey didn't bother Mike quite as much as the girl since he knew him and it was expected, if not completely predictable. Although Abbey's presence did get Mike to thinking about lunch, something he was by no means looking forward too.

He wasn't really sure what he was going to do. He considered just going in and sitting down at the regular table and acting as if nothing happened. He also considered sitting there in silence. He could even go in and apologize for being so hostile, but no matter what he did, he knew people would question him. People wanted to know why he reacted the way he had, they wanted to know what was wrong with him. Mike didn't want to leave his friends; actually, he wanted just the opposite. He desperately wanted their support. Whether it was for the worry and fear regarding the cancer, the depression and regret related to the way he had spent his life, or the gross lack of self-esteem within him.

It didn't matter though, he couldn't do it. He couldn't talk to them. No matter how much he wanted too, he just couldn't open himself up like that. It somewhat mystified him. He had always been so open, so honest about things like this. Normally he loved support, and loved to get his problems off of his chest, but this was different. He had never dealt with anything like this before. Mike figured that maybe it had something do with that fact if he told his friends about the cancer; nothing would be the same, and this would merely cause him more anxiety. Not to mention the fact he couldn't really talk to them about his stress or self-esteem without bringing up the cancer since they were so closely tied to each other. He was trapped within a catch-22 and there was nothing he could do. Mike wasn't sure if this was the truth, or just something he was telling himself, but it didn't matter anyway. It changed nothing.

When the bell rung dismissing him for lunch, Mike stood up from his desk and rubbed his eyes. When they focused to the lighting in the room, he walked out and made his way to the cafeteria. His mind rapidly processed what he was going to do. Would he go to the table, or would he go sit alone and hope he wasn't found? Could he deal with the questioning and the awkwardness? Could he bear to look Paulo, or any of his other friends for that matter, in the eyes?

Upon entering the large room filled with his peers, he glanced over at his table. Only a few of his friends sat there talking amongst themselves, the rest were most likely getting food. He wouldn't have been surprised if they were talking about him, waiting for him to show up so they could bombard him with questions. Mike glanced over at the various lines of people, and upon seeing the lengths, he sighed. He wasn't that hungry anyways. He took one more glance at his table, and then began to walk away. He decided he would sit outside today; he could use the fresh air.

He was hoping none of his friends spotted him as he walked along the wall of the cafeteria, making haste towards the exit. Luckily, he was not spotted, and he made it out with no issue. He was greeted by a blast of warm air upon going outside. It wasn't blistering heat, but a little uncomfortable to be in if exposed to direct sunlight, so he found himself a nice spot in the shade.

All of the tables were occupied, probably by groups that had been sitting in them since the beginning of the year, but it didn't bother him. Mike took a seat in the grass, leaning against the building, his knees slightly elevated. The only people who were even relatively near to him were two groups, both at tables, and both minding their own business, but even they were a substantial distance from him. It was perfect; he wanted nothing more than to be alone.

Mike seldom found himself outside during lunch, so he knew little of went on out. He watched some kids playing football in the grass far off to his left, but his gaze soon diverted to the kids that were practicing flips, most likely for break dancing, in the grass in front of him, off to the distance. He had to admit that they were actually quite good. Of course, he was really just glad to be getting his mind off of his worries. Mike took a deep breath, taking in the air which seemed oddly fresh. He wasn't quite happy, but he wasn't horribly off either. He did feel slightly better though, which was a delight in its own.

Lucy sat at the lunch table, waiting with worry for Mike to show up. She had no idea where he was, or how he was doing. Given everything he had been going through as of late was reason enough to worry, but thinking back to what she had seen earlier in the morning stressed her out even more. She picked at her food, and looked at her friends. She could tell they were all wondering where he was too, but no one said it. Whilst the conversations that normally went on did persist, they seemed to lack the luster and emotion they normally had. Everyone seemed just a touch detached from reality. Even David seemed a bit less talkative than usual.

Lucy had eventually decided that she was going to go find Mike, but before she had a chance, Daisy stood up.

"Where are you off too?" Abbey asked.

"Oh, I just need to check something really quick." Daisy said with a fake smile, a smile that painfully reminded Lucy of Mike's smile from before.

"Want me to go with you?" Abbey offered.

"No, that's alright. I shouldn't be long." Daisy responded, taking her plate of food to the garbage.

No one said it, but everyone knew what she was going to do, including Lucy. She was going to go look for Mike. Lucy felt like she should try and stop Daisy. She was worried that Daisy would only make things worse. But Lucy sat there, instead moving her food around her plate, praying that Daisy didn't find him, and if she did, she didn't say the wrong thing.


	27. Never Walk Alone

Chapter 27: Never Walk Alone

Mike breathed deeply, taking in the fresh air that wafted around him. He felt oddly at peace. He knew that deep in his heart stress lay dormant, waiting to resurface and rear its ugly head into his life once again, but he did his best to simply ignore it. Maybe it wasn't a solution, but it was definitely better than being unhappy all the time. For now, he would be thankful he was set free of his thoughts and worries, if even for a short time. Mike let his eyes shut as he felt a cool breeze blew past him, agitating his fur and causing his ears to twitch.

After several minutes of quiet relaxation and harmonious mediation he slowly began to regain his awareness upon hearing soft footsteps make their way closer to him. He slowly opened his eyes and turned his head only to see none other than Daisy standing a few feet from his person, a worried expression painted across her face. Almost instantly, Mike felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over his body. Most of the serene ecstasy from mere moments ago had turned into a fresh bout of annoyed disheartenment.

"Daisy, what are you doing here?" Mike asked with a tone similar to a parent asking their child why they woke them from a deep slumber, condescending, yet innocent in nature.

"Mikie…" Daisy uttered, her voice tinged with worry, compassion, and worst of all, disappointment.

Mike remained silent and turned his head away from Daisy as he began to stare straight ahead, into the distance. Part of him desperately wanted Daisy to walk away; to leave to him to his thoughts and to himself; but another part of him was ridden with guilt at the pain he was causing her, as well as the rest of his friends. Several moments of awkward silence passed, neither of them moving. Mike looked up at Daisy, wondering why she stood there saying nothing, and his question was quickly answered. Her eyes were moist with her tears, and she looked as though she wanted to break into a fit of sobbing.

Mike's expression, one of listless detachment, quickly changed into the face of a guilt-ridden criminal.

"Daisy, why are you crying?" Mike asked, a little more animatedly then he had intended.

"_Did someone tell her? Could Abbey have…?_" Mike thought to himself.

"Mikie, why are you doing this?" Daisy asked him, doing her best to fight off the sobs rising up in her chest.

"Doing what?" Mike asked her.

"You know damn well what you're doing!" Daisy shot back at him in anger. Mike couldn't help but flinch at her harsh tone. He hadn't expected it, especially not from her.

"I… W-what do you mean?" Mike asked in surprise, feeling a bit of fear rise up in him.

"I thought you were my friend…" Daisy responded. All the anger that had lurked in her voice moments ago gone. Now it was mere exhaustion and depression. It was a tone Mike recognized, a tone that he was far too familiar with.

"Daisy, of course I'm your friend! Why would you say I wasn't?" He asked, now on his feet.

"Then why won't you tell me what's wrong?" She snapped at him again. Mike stood for a moment in silence. At first he had been shocked, confused, and even a little worried, but now it made sense.

"I didn't want to worry you." He said with a low, almost monotone voice. He was now staring at the ground, too ashamed to look Daisy in the eyes.

"You didn't want to worry me?" Daisy asked appalled. "You didn't want to _worry _me?" Mike closed his eyes as tight as he could, fearing what she would say next. It was rare Daisy ever acted like this, for her to speak with such anger and sadness. In some ways, simply knowing it was _her _saying it made the confrontation far worse.

"I-I can't even- ugh! I don't even know what to say to that! Have you not seen how you've been acting? I mean look at lunch yesterday, look at lunch _today_!" Daisy said, violently moving her arms in a downward motion in front of her, stopping with her palms out, facing Mike in desperation. She slowly balled them up in fists as she paused a moment, and then let them fall to her sides.

"I'm sorry." Daisy said to him, the anger in her voice once again gone. His eyes shot open upon hearing those words. "I just… I just don't want to watch you suffer, Mikie. I want to help you, to be there for you. I guess I just-"Suddenly, Mike stepped forward and embraced her in a hug, small tears in the corners of his eyes, but a content smile on his face.

"Mikie…?" Daisy asked taken aback.

"Daisy," Mike began and then paused. "Thank you."

"F-f-for what?" She asked, slowly lifting her arms and placing them on Mike's back.

"For being such a good friend, for being a better friend than I deserve," Mike replied with an air of confidence and enlightenment to his voice. "I'm sorry. I should have told you the truth from the beginning, but I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt anyone, whether it's you, Paulo, or any of our other friends. I just thought… I thought that if I could take it on alone that maybe I could spare you guys some heartache, and selfishly enough, spare myself some too." Daisy's expression did not change throughout Mike's confession. It remained both baffled and flustered, but there was something else there too. There was pain. It was a pain that embodied understanding, forgiveness, and the love for a close friend.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you, Daisy." Mike's voice became increasingly emotional as he continued. "I wanted to say something, to talk to someone so badly. I guess I dumped all of my problems on Lucy… It wasn't fair to anyone. Not to me, not to you, not to her, no one." Mike whispered the last two words before inhaling; taking in Daisy's subtle, yet soothing scent. After a brief moment of stillness, Mike felt Daisy's grip on his body tighten as she began to hold him. He felt her hand graze the back of his head with a certain gentleness that only a person like Daisy could have.

"Mikie, do you want to tell me what's wrong?" She asked with a tender voice.

"I'm sick, Daisy." Mike said after a moment of deliberation.

"What do you mean?"

Mike could feel nervous anticipation and fear sweep over him. There was still a part of him that screamed not to say it. It screamed that he was better off not doing it, that he would regret it, but he suppressed that part of him. He was tired of listening to it. Tired of suffering because he was in denial and too afraid to stand up and help himself.

"It's cancer," Mike whispered to her. As Mike felt her tightly grip his back, her claws causing his skin to tingle, he felt like he was in a bad horror movie. He felt like he had whispered some type of sick joke. They stood there in silence for several moments. Mike had an odd feeling, like Daisy would suddenly break their hug. That she would push him to the ground and run away like he was some leper, but she didn't. Instead, she began to cry.

"Oh, Mikie…" She mumbled in-between sobs. "I'm so sorry; I didn't know."

"It's okay, Daisy." Mike said attempting to comfort her. "It's my fault; I should have told you sooner."

They spent the next couple of minutes standing there, Daisy in Mike's arms. The only thing breaking the silence was the sound her sobs, and the chirping of the birds that flew above.

"… How long have you known?" Daisy asked with a sniff, as she withdrew her claws from the surface of his back, doing her best to calm down.

"Since Saturday," Mike answered.

"Oh God, Mikie, that was only a few days ago." She responded as she hugged him harder, her tone becoming increasingly motherly. "You've really be taking it hard, haven't you?"

"…It's complicated." Mike answered, part of him wanting to elaborate and to tell her all about what had happened over the past few days, while another part of him was filled with apprehension at the thought.

"Whatta you mean?" She asked.

"I mean that… I… really haven't been feeling very well, and it's not _just _the cancer." Mike struggled to find the right words.

"What's wrong?" Daisy pressed on.

"I guess I've just been kind of been depressed lately." Mike admitted.

"Why have you been depressed?" She asked him.

"I guess the cancer has made me realize a few things about myself." Mike replied, shameful discontent in his voice.

"What things?" Daisy asked, but the next few moments were only occupied by silence. "What things, Mikie?" Daisy asked again as she repositioned her body a few inches away from him to get a better look at his face.

"I don't know. I guess that I'm… just a waste." Mike replied, doing his best to stop making eye contact with her.

"A waste? Why would you ever think you were a waste?" Daisy asked.

"I haven't done anything with my life, Daisy. I wasted my time. I always thought I was doing something good by focusing on academics, by trying to stay out of drama, by not chasing after every woman I saw. Look where it got me. It was all for nothing." Mike said as he broke their hug completely and stared down at her feet.

"What do you mean? How was that all for nothing?" Daisy asked confused.

"It was a waste because… I didn't really have a life. I didn't have any fun, I didn't accomplish anything impressive, and I won't be remembered. What was the point? And now, it's too late. I wasted my life."

"Michael, you did what you thought was right. You made yourself a future, you have lots of friends, and you have lots of reasons to be proud of yourself." Daisy responded. Mike's eyes slightly widened with surprise. It was rare she ever called him that, 'Michael'. "You've always been strong, independent, determined, likable… and when something went wrong, you were always there. You may not have had the most exciting life, but you've lead a good one. You've made an impact on the people around you, and you, in your own way, made an impact on the world. I only wish more people were like you, Mikie." Mike looked up, a look of flattery and confusion resting heavily upon his brow.

"Do you really think that?" Mike asked, craving reassurance.

"I really do." Daisy answered with a smile on her face. Mike hugged her again.

"You really are a great friend, Daisy. Thank you."

"You are too, Mikie."


	28. Taboo Considerations

Chapter 28: Taboo Considerations

Daisy and Mike spent a few moments embraced in the warmth of their hug, neither of them saying a thing until Daisy broke the soothing aura of silence.

"You wanna go back to the table?" She asked, moving her body several inches away from Mike's and looking up at him.

"Yeah, sure," Mike answered breaking the hug completely. They both made their way to the cafeteria.

Daisy could feel a complex mixture of emotions surging through her body, but she did her best to keep them at bay. Despite all that she had, and had done with Abbey, she could not deny the fact she still had feelings for Mike, no matter how much she wanted too. There was something of the way he walked, and carried himself. The way he looked, the way he sounded, even the way he smelled; she felt an odd type of jubilance with him. It was far too often that she found herself hoping he felt the same way, although reality had a way of quickly reminding her that it simply was not to be. Yet, even while reality could show her he didn't feel for her like she felt for him, there was no telling the future. So she clung to the future; she prayed for it.

As their walk progressed, Daisy's thoughts became more and more pronounced. They began to go from his personality, and his feelings; to thoughts of a future, and a family. She imagined the wedding, a festive event with an amazing cake and beautiful decorations. She could see doves fly away as both she and Mike shared the kiss that would seal them to each other forever. She imagined the kids, two of them, a boy and a girl. She could see herself soothing the girl that took heavily after Mike, as Mike scolded the boy that took heavily after her. She pondered on how he would treat her and their kids. She imagined him treating them like gold, like they were all that was important in the world. She imagined a perfect life, one where she and Mike were the center piece.

Soon, Daisy's thoughts of grandeur and of a perfect life came to an end. The feelings of bliss and wonderment that filled her mind faded into a guilty regret that sat thick in the pit of her stomach. She felt like these thoughts, these daydreams, were forsaking Abbey. They were tarnishing the very foundation of their relationship. Daisy thought about Abbey, thought about his personality, his body, his emotions. She thought about who he was as a person in complete entirety. She loved Abbey… didn't she?

Mike could feel an odd sense of contentment in the blood that flowed through his veins. It seemed to carry peace to every inch of his body. Maybe it was all the time he had spent in a burdened and hopeless shell, but he felt truly ready for the world. Mike, in most ways, regretted not talking to Daisy sooner. While it was true that it had only been a few days since he had even learned of the cancer himself, he couldn't help but feel guilty. He thought back to the things he had said at the lunch, to the things he had said to Paulo… Even worse, he thought about what Paulo had said to him, and how he had reacted. Mike had been so distracted by his own issues that he had forgotten about his friends, and about how he was hurting them.

Mike tilted his head slightly, giving him a slightly better view of Daisy's face. He had spent a lot of time in the past trying to deduce how he truly felt about her, but it always seemed to be an impossible job. There were times where he could picture himself with her, where the thought of a life and a future with Daisy seemed fun and carefree, but of course things couldn't ever possibly be that simple. For starters, he wasn't entirely _sure_ of how he felt about her. It was true, he did have feelings for her, and to a certain extent, he could even say he loved her. The problem he was facing was _how _he loved her. Daisy was a sweet, beautiful girl, and he had no reason, nor any desire, to deny that, but there was something about Daisy. It was that very sweetness he enjoyed; it brought rise to a sort of innocence. Sometimes Mike would look at her and he would see a girl, one that needed protecting and guidance. He knew that, if anything, Daisy would do a better job guiding him, but regardless, he couldn't shake the thought. He felt as though she was like a little sister to him.

Sure enough though, there were times where that 'little sister' image would lie dormant. These were the times where Mike would look at Daisy, and instead of seeing a girl who needed protecting, he saw a young woman, one that needed love. Sometimes, when Mike found himself overcome with personal urges of temptation and passion, Daisy would pop in his mind. He would imagine her in positions and scenarios; she would do things that he could hardly even imagine her doing in real life. Of course, these thoughts were somewhat rare. Mainly because he fought them off and avoided them to the best of his ability. For some reason, he felt a sort of guilty for belittling her in his mind that way. It was made further confusing because he didn't typically feel the same way after he imagined other girls. There was something about Daisy, something that made her different. There were times when Mike wondered if it was that very uniqueness he saw in her that made them truly compatible.

Mike thought about Lucy and Sandy. What if they weren't around? What if they hadn't been around? Would he be with Daisy? Could things have possibly been _that_ different? While they were interesting thoughts to humor, Mike just didn't think it was a very plausible. When all was said and done, when the passion had left him and he returned to his normal state of being, Daisy was a person whom he wished to support, and be supported by. Daisy was like a sister, and nothing more.

Despite how much he simplified things, Mike still couldn't help but feel a touch remorseful over their lack of a relationship. He knew how much Daisy loved him; he knew how much she cared. She would do anything to make him happy. Mike wanted to say he would do the same for her, to say that he truly loved her like a sister, but could he? Would it be said with true, honest sincerity? Mike questioned himself, and he questioned his discipline. Did he have it in him to be that good of a friend, or was Daisy simply better at it? Or maybe he was just using that as an excuse so he didn't have to try…

The thoughts of both Mike and Daisy were promptly interrupted by the ringing of the school bell. They both stopped and looked at each other.

"I guess we should just head straight to class then." Daisy said with a small smile.

"Yeah." Mike said scratching the back of his head. "Um, Daisy?"

"Huh? What's wrong?" Daisy asked with concern in her voice.

"I just… I'm not sure what we should say to everyone else." Mike began.

"Uh, do you want to tell them?" Daisy asked. "Or do you want me to do it?" Mike felt a bit of panic rise up in his chest, then subside into nervousness. He knew he couldn't keep it a secret any longer. It wasn't right.

"I…" Mike considered Daisy's offer. He honestly wouldn't have minded for her to tell them in his place, but he once again came back to what was right and wrong. Was it really fair to his friends to hear it from her? Then again, did it really matter? "… I guess I can tell them. But I don't want to do it today."

"Tomorrow?" Daisy asked, almost hopefully. Mike cringed at the fact she was setting a date for it.

"Yeah, okay." Mike responded. Upon uttering those words, Mike felt an odd mixture of unrest and relief wash over him. He took solace in the fact that knowing the mystery of 'when' was gone. Then he remembered. "Oh wait. I can't do it tomorrow. I have a doctor's appointment, I won't be at school."

"Oh, you do? I hope everything goes alright." Daisy said to him reassuringly.

"Me too. So, should I maybe do it on… Wednesday?" Mike half asked, half stated.

"Sure, that's fine." Daisy answered.

"So I'll talk to you later?" Mike asked.

"Okay, I hope you feel better!" Daisy said with compassion, and a slight bit of her natural pep returning. Mike couldn't help but wonder if it was authentic or feigned.

"I think I'll be okay." Mike replied with that new sense of self. The same one he had rediscovered thanks to her.


	29. Jealousy

Chapter 29: Jealously

For the first time since his diagnosis, Mike found himself once again able to give his full attention to class. Previously, whenever he managed to gain some concentration, his thoughts would drift away; sometimes to the problems he was facing in life, and sometimes to mere nothingness. There was also the issue of his recent bout of depression and hopelessness, which made it hard to start concentrating in the first place. So not only did he lose focus quite often, he found it near impossible to regain.

Fortunately though, he was beginning to feel a little better. His recent conversation with Daisy had been oddly helpful. It had seemed to clear his mind; the fog of emotional war that hung heavy, corroding his spirit and corrupting his understanding, seemed to have dissipated, or at least left him for the time being. By no means was Mike in a fantastic mood, but surely things could have been far worse, and he was quite aware of this. Maybe Mike's standards of happiness had simply fallen from recent tribulations, but as result of those same tribulations, he had grown quite apathetic regarding the means, and was far more concerned with the ends. So he would simply be content with his happiness, and try not to dawn too much on it.

It was not long until the bell dismissing Mike from school rang, and within a few moments, the desolate hallways that ran through the school, devoid of life, were filled with excitement and energy. Mike left his classroom and went to his locker. After fighting through the mobs of people, he finally arrived, and he began to situate his possessions. He couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious. After all, many of the people passing him now were the same individuals who had witnessed his embarrassing outburst the day before. Mike did his best to dismiss that thought. He had generally been left alone thus far, maybe people didn't care…

"Hey, Mike!" David said enthusiastically as he made his way past.

"Oh, hey, David," Mike responded. Soon after, he felt a slight bit of fear rise up in his chest; it caused him to tighten his grip, squeezing the textbook in his hand. He couldn't help but look around for Paulo. The sense of déjà vu within him made Mike feel like Paulo would be walking towards him, hands balled into fists, and anger in his eyes. He didn't see anyone though. He was in the clear. It was just paranoia.

Mike quickly finished depositing and withdrawing the appropriate items to and from his locker, and he closed it. When the small metal door shut, he locked it.

"Hey." Lucy said greeting him as she appeared at his side. He was a touch startled.

"Hey, Lucy," He responded. "How are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Lucy answered. Mike could feel the anxiety in her voice, and he could see it on her face.

"Is something wrong?" He asked.

"I was – well, I _am _– a little worried." Lucy responded.

"Why? What's wrong?" Mike asked concerned, yet oblivious.

"You didn't show up at the lunch table today. And that combined with the way you were acting this morning…" Lucy replied.

"Oh," Mike said, suddenly understanding. "I'm really sorry about that Lucy. I wasn't exactly feeling very well this morning." Mike scratched the back his head and gave an awkward smile.

"… Are you feeling better now?" She looked up at him with a hopeful expression.

"Actually, I'm feeling a lot better!" Mike responded. "I had a conversation with Daisy, and she cheered me up."

"You had a conversation with Daisy?" Lucy asked, a little surprised. "_Looks like Daisy __**did**__ find him…" _Lucy thought to herself.

"Yeah, she kind of helped me realize that it wasn't right for me to keep the… uh, _cancer_ a secret." Mike began, whispering the end part of the statement. "She wants me to tell everyone about it tomorrow."

"Oh, that's nice." Lucy responded, not sure of what else to say. She didn't know why, but she felt an odd sort of contempt rise up in her. In some ways, it annoyed her that she had spent so much time with Mike, yet was unable to make him want to do to confess himself. Granted she had been mostly complacent regarding it, the matter still bothered her.

"Oh, and… I think I owe you an apology." Mike said, looking down at her feet.

"An apology? To me? Why?" Lucy asked mystified. What could Daisy have possibly said to him?

"I've kind of been putting all my issues on you. I know you already have a lot to deal with, and it wasn't right for me to do that. I'm sorry, Lucy." Mike said, looking back up into her eyes.

"No, no, no, Mike, I don't care about that." Lucy responded, feeling even more contempt towards Daisy. "I actually… kind of like it. I mean, I guess I'm just glad you're talking to me at all." Lucy felt embarrassment consume her. She really hadn't meant for it to come out like it had, even if it was the truth.

"Lucy…" Mike began. Something about her words had plucked at his heartstrings. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant that… we could maybe talk about other things, better things." Lucy didn't respond. She simply stared at the ground in embarrassment. Mike saw her shame. "I know we've had our disagreements and stuff, but I guess I didn't know you as well I thought I did." Mike could feel himself becoming a bit embarrassed himself as well. "We used to have a lot of fun before, well, all of the drama and relationship issues. I know we _can _be friends, and honestly, I still want that. I just don't want to use you as my personal psychiatrist. I want you as my friend, or maybe even closer than that." Mike's body tensed up with that last statement; he hadn't meant for it to sound so adulterous. Lucy laughed to herself.

"W-what's so funny?" Mike asked blushing.

"You're such a nerd." Lucy said looking up at him. At first, Mike felt defensive and slightly insulted, but that feeling quickly passed.

"Pfft, you know you love it." Mike teased in response. Lucy hadn't expected that, but she liked it.

"Yeah, maybe." She laughed.

As they made their way home, Lucy took particular notice to how great the change in Mike's demeanor had been. He wasn't slouching, his head was up, and he was far more talkative. Lucy attempted to keep up conversation with him, but there was something bothering her, or rather, something _still _bothering her. It was Daisy. Lucy didn't know why she was so disturbed at the thought of Daisy helping Mike like she had. Wasn't it a good thing? Didn't she want him to feel better? Wasn't that what was important? What did it matter who did it, as long as Mike benefitted? Lucy knew it was petty, and she knew that Mike feeling better really was what mattered, but she couldn't help but shake that feeling; she couldn't seem to get that bad taste out of her mouth. What was it, and why was it there?

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow." Mike said to Lucy, turning to look at her after they reached his house.

"Alright. You sure you'll be okay alone?" She asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow or something. Maybe you can even bring over the pets." Mike offered.

"Uh, yeah, sure." Lucy responded, that same feeling of contempt rising up in her. Mike paused for a moment. He wasn't sure what he should do. He wanted to hug her, but it didn't seem right. He thought about shaking her hand, but quickly dismissed the thought as ridiculous. He decided the best move was to just walk away.

"See ya, Lucy." He said as he made his way towards the front door of his house.

"Bye, Mike."

Lucy began her walk home. She thought about Daisy, she thought about Mike, and she wondered why the whole situation angered her as it did. She even seemed somewhat annoyed by what Mike had said. 'Maybe you can even bring over the pets.' Lucy had nothing against bringing over the pets in the literal sense, but rather, it was the implication behind it that bothered her. The entire reason she hadn't brought over the pets to his house in the first place was because she wanted to be alone with him, for both selfish and caring reasons. Regardless, Mike telling her to bring over the pets meant he wasn't depressed. It meant he was happy, or at least content. But why did this annoy Lucy so much? She couldn't seem to put her finger on it.

Lucy continued to think as she walked up to her front door. She was eager to go inside, to take a shower, and to lie down in her own bed, but she didn't. She turned around and looked up at the sky.

"What is wrong with me?" She asked the sky under her breath. "Why do I care so much?" Several moments of silence passed.

Lucy felt the hand of guilt grip her heart. She finally understood it. She _wanted_ Mike to be sick. She knew that if he was sick, that if he was depressed, that if he was hopeless, that he would come crawling to her. That Sandy, some girl over the phone, wouldn't be enough. She thought about all the close, amorous moments they had shared since his diagnosis. In just a few short days they had went from being enemies, to being closer to a relationship then they had ever been before. He had stopped hating her, stopping despising her…

"_You're such a nerd."_

"_You know you love it."_

That response, it had been caught her off guard because he was trying. He wanted to rebuild their friendship. There was even a chance they could have been more than friends; there was a chance they could have been together. But that was no longer to be, it was all over. All thanks to that _bitch _Daisy. She fixed him; she made him feel better.

"_He doesn't need me anymore." _Lucy thought to herself. "_Why don't you just take him? Why don't you just take your precious 'Mikie?'" _Lucy felt anger overwhelm her as her thoughts intensified. "_You only have a great life. A boyfriend, great grades, a great home…_" Lucy knew that her life, by definition, wasn't that bad either. She simply hated it, yet she didn't know why. Her lack of reasoning to explain her hatred of life only made her angrier. "_It's not like I want to be happy. It's not like I want any reason to live. It's not like I want a reason to wake up in the morning!" _Lucy felt tears of anger fill her eyes as she stopped looking at the sky. She looked around. She wanted to punch something, but she didn't, she couldn't. She felt helpless. "_Why can't you find someone else? I don't have anything left but him. Don't take him from me too!" _Lucy wasn't sure who she was begging. Daisy, or God. "_Why did you have to take him from me… Why?" _Lucy's thoughts persisted. She felt the anger that had been consuming her begin to turn into a blanket of depression that seemed to cover her entire body, weighing her down. She began to feel weak. "_You wouldn't be taking him from me, would you? You would be taking him from Sandy. That bitch. He isn't even mine, is he? He was never mine. I could have had him, before Sandy showed up again. No… I would have messed it up. I mess everything up." _Lucy knew it wasn't Daisy's fault; it wasn't Sandy's fault; it wasn't God's fault. It was her fault. She was the one who failed to keep and please him. She had failed _him. _She was finally doing things right, and it only took cancer to make it happen. Regardless, it was too late. Lucy fell to her knees on the cement. She felt a sharp twinge of pain from the impact, but it was nothing compared to the pain she was already in.

"I'm a monster." Lucy said to herself as her face, one that normally represented apathy and strength, collapsed into a fit of pitiful crying. "I'm such a terrible person. Mike, I'm so sorry. I don't want you to be sick; I don't want you to die. You were such a good-" Lucy stopped herself. "You _are _a good friend. I'm so sorry. If you're happier with Sandy, or Daisy, or anyone, that's fine. No, it's better. I don't deserve you; I don't deserve anyone." Lucy continued to sob.

"_Please don't die, Mike."_

"_I don't want to be like this anymore."_

"_I love you so much."_

"_I don't want to be a monster."_

"_I would do anything for you."_

"_I hate myself so much. I hate myself; I hate my life; I hate everything."_

"_I wish we could be together."_

"_I wish I was dead."_

Her thoughts seemed to volley back and forth between hopelessness, and her love for Mike. But it wasn't long until Lucy's tears slowly came to a stop as she got back up to her feet. She looked around. It didn't appear there was anyone out in the open, watching her embarrassing episode; nevertheless, she didn't really care anymore. She walked to her front door and put her hand on the knob. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with her other hand.

'"_I just don't want to use you as my personal psychiatrist. I want you as my friend, or maybe even closer than that."' _Lucy pondered what that meant. Was he simply saying he wanted her to be closer, or did he want a relationship? Was there a chance for them to exist as a couple? Did she even deserve him anymore?

"_I just want to be happy."_


	30. Diamonds and Rust

Chapter 30: Diamonds and Rust

Mike walked into his house, instantly feeling a wave of cool air blanket his body. Without wasting a moment's time to even place his belongings in his room, he headed towards the kitchen. He hadn't eaten since the night before, and it was starting to catch up with him. He opened the door of the refrigerator and withdrew a small container filled with the main course to the previous night's dinner.

"Hey, honey." He heard his mom say from behind him as she joined him in the kitchen. "How was your day?"

"It was actually pretty good." Mike responded as he brought the bowl of food over to the microwave that was a few steps away.

"It was?" His mom asked, as if she hadn't expected that as an answer.

"Yep." Mike replied, ignoring her confusion.

"That's great to hear. I was really worried about you." She said to him. Mike was just beginning to pick up on her exhausted expression, decorated with a feigned smile.

"You were? Why?" He asked a little concerned as he hit a button on the microwave, prompting it to turn on.

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's a mom thing." She responded with a small laugh. Her voice was lethargic, and her words were slightly slurred. It was subtle, but as the conversation went on, Mike was beginning to notice the slight, apathetic designs of her demeanor.

"Heh, yeah." He said faking a chuckle.

"What are you making?" She asked him.

"Leftovers," He replied. She kept staring at him, almost as if she was afraid to look away.

"Oh, okay. I'll leave you to do that, then." She said as she slowly walked away, looking at the ground. She sounded disappointed, but Mike had no idea why.

"Mom?" He asked aloud. She appeared at the entrance to the kitchen.

"Yes?" Her eyebrows seemed to elevate slightly when she asked the question, but her eyelids remained stagnant, dead, and flat.

"Are you okay?" He asked with worry in his voice.

"Oh, honey, I'm fine. Just a little tired." She responded, giving him that same fake smile.

"Oh, alright." Mike replied, swallowing hard. He looked at the timer on the microwave, not much longer.

"You're okay, right?" She asked him again.

"Yeah." He said facing her.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure." Mike replied. Something about his mother seemed… off. She seemed so tired and fragile. Normally she was the opposite; she was energetic and strong. Why not now? What had changed? Was it his diagnosis? It didn't seem likely since he had talked to her the night before, and she had seemed fine.

"Okay, I'm glad. Love you." She said with that same fake smile.

"Love you too." He replied. Moments before her face became entirely out of sight, Mike saw her expression change. That fake smile disappeared, and reformed as a frown.

When his food was ready, Mike grabbed the container out of the microwave, grabbed a fork, and then headed up to his room. Upon entering, he closed his door, dropped his backpack on the ground, and crawled on to his bed. He sat up, leaned against his pillows, and began to eat. He couldn't help but think about his mom. About her face, about her words, about her tone… she seemed different. She had said she was simply tired, but he had a hard time believing that. If she was so tired, why didn't she just take a nap? It had to be something more.

"_Could it be stress?"_ Mike thought to himself. "_Is she worried about the cancer? No, that doesn't make sense. She was perfectly fine last night… Then again, it might be just starting to bother her. Or maybe she really __**is**__ tired, and she can't sleep." _

Mike really didn't want to think about it. It had been a hard couple of days, not only for him, but for his family too. His mom wasn't really acting _that _odd anyway. Maybe she was a little a tired, and maybe she was a little stressed. So what? She could get some rest, and then they would be fine.

After Mike had finished eating, he brought the container down to the kitchen, rinsed it off, and placed it in his dishwasher. He then headed back upstairs. He really didn't know what he wanted to do. He didn't want to watch TV, he didn't want to read, and he didn't have any homework. He could study, but he knew he could pass any upcoming tests with little worry, so he figured there was no need. He looked at his phone. Mike had a sudden urge to call Sandy, but he knew if he did, he would have to tell her about the cancer. He couldn't possibly stand a conversation with that hanging over his head. He sat on the edge of his bed and sighed.

"I have to call her eventually." He whispered to himself. He thought about how their conversation would go, about what she would say, what he would say. What if she cried? Mike really didn't know if he could bear to hear that. "_Maybe I could just call her tomorrow." _ He thought to himself. He knew that waiting to call her would put him back in his previous state of having nothing to occupy him, but at least he could stand that. That was when he remembered something. He had promised Daisy he was going to tell their friends about it. "Damn it." He said aloud. "Why does this have to be such a pain in the ass?" Mike laid down on his bed and closed his eyes. He didn't go to sleep though; he continued to think.

After a few moments of pondering, he then remembered something else. He had a doctor's appointment in the morning, so telling his friends would have to wait. After all, he wasn't even going to see them. The positive to this was that he had another day to prepare to tell them; the negative was that now he had to tell Sandy, and that would be just as hard, if not harder. He sighed loudly.

Since Mike had decided to wait until the following day to tell Sandy, he once again had nothing to do. He opened his eyes and stared at his phone. There were other people he could call, but he really didn't want to call them. Well, except for Lucy of course. The problem he had with calling Lucy was that he had spent so much time with her in the last few days… was it really a good move? Surely their parents had to be suspecting some kind of intimate behavior at this point, and not to mention, Lucy had to be getting a little sick of being around him all the time. Then again, she seemed to be more than willing to keep him company, and she had openly admitted to loving him on more than one occasion. So maybe she wasn't sick of him, but in a way, _that _was a problem too. He thought about the hours they had spent together; he thought about the words they had shared. Worst of all, he thought about his daydreams and fantasies. Not only were those alone near breaching the realms of adultery, he was worried that if he kept exposing himself to Lucy, his feelings would soon overwhelm him, and he would give in to his twisted desires. It had already almost happened once, and if he hadn't excused him to the bathroom, who knows what he would have done?

Mike knew it wasn't a good idea to call her, so he would just have to control himself. Fortunately, his fit of brainstorming had led him to a world of thought that managed to take care of his boredom; it was thinking about Lucy. He didn't think about their relationship, or about inviting her over. No, none of that. He thought about how nice she could be, about how all the hostility she had displayed over the years was simply result of her own unhappiness. She wasn't a truly a cold-hearted person; she was just lonely.

As would happen with any youth, his thoughts slowly began to go from her personality to her body. He thought about her fit form; her smooth, soft fur; her deep, blue eyes; her silky, fluffy, bushel of a tail. There was something oddly pleasing to him about a girl who could not only be strong when she needed to be, but still relied on him. A girl who could not only support and protect, but one that could give him purpose by needing those very things in return. Oh, how he longed to touch her soft cheek, and to run his hand down the alluring cloud that was her body. Mike stood up from his bed and walked over to his door. He locked it.


	31. Symbolic

Chapter 31: Symbolic

Mike's eyes jolted open as a ringing noise beat away on his ear drums. He reached over and silenced the screeching contraption; it was his alarm clock. He sighed.

"_I should really get one that plays music or something…" _Mike thought to himself, too delirious to simply turn the alarm down. He felt extremely tired, despite the fact that he was able to sleep an extra hour. He figured it had something to do with his sleep cycles, but he was too tired to care. He knew he would feel better once he got up and started to get ready, so he threw his legs over the side of the bed and sat there for a moment, rubbing his eyes.

"_Alright, what are we doing today? Doctors appointment, that's right." _He thought to himself. He started to stand up, a large yawn keeping him from making any sort of progression for a few slight moments. As he began to head towards his bathroom, the door to his room opened. His mom peeked inside.

"Morning, honey, I just wanted to make sure you were awake." She said with a soothing tone.

"Yeah, I'm up." Mike said back to her. "Morning,"

"I'll leave so you can get ready." She began to close the door, but quickly peeked back in. "And try to hurry. I made the appointment early because you can't eat before it." She then left him. Mike stood in place, staring at the door. He sighed and shook his head in annoyance.

After tending to himself in all the necessary fashions- teeth, fur, and toilet –he headed downstairs and looked around. He saw his mom sitting on the living room couch, the blinds closed, and no lights on. It wouldn't have been so odd if the television had been on, tuned to the news as always, but it wasn't. She was simply sitting in the darkness, a mug of coffee in her hand.

"Mom?" Mike asked aloud.

"Oh, are you ready to go?" She asked him.

"Um, yeah." He answered.

She stood up and walked to the front door.

"You brushed your fur?" She asked him with that typical motherly tone; a tone that had begun to grow painfully familiar to him.

"Yes."

"Teeth?"

"Yes."

"Cologne?"

"Mom, I don't wear cologne." Mike answered, perfectly familiar with the conversation, and confident in what she would say next.

"You really should. You don't want to smell do you? Don't want to scare off all the ladies either, do you?" She asked him cutely.

"Mom, please," he begged for her to stop.

"I just don't see what's wrong with wearing a little bit of cologne." She pressed on.

"Alright, fine! I'll put on the cologne!" He said in anger, walking upstairs to tend to the multiple bottles of cologne he had gotten as gifts, even though he had never asked for them.

"Michael, I'm just trying to help." She responded, beginning to become a little angry herself.

"_Well you're not!"___Mike screamed in his head. In reality, he chose not to respond to his mother. He knew that if he said something, it would escalate; not something he felt like dealing with. As he spritzed on a meager amount of cologne, he thought about how his mom had been acting. Originally, he was quite worried. Between her odd behavior the previous day as well as her sitting alone in the dark that morning, something appeared to be awry. Of course, judging by the way she had just spoken to him, maybe he had just overreacted. Maybe she had been tired. Maybe she just didn't feel like watching the news. Maybe nothing was wrong at all. Without him even realizing it, the anger slowly left him.

Mike headed back downstairs and walked to his mom who was waiting for him by the front door.

"Ready to go?" She asked him.

"Yeah," Mike answered nodding. He followed her outside and made his way towards the vehicle that wait in their driveway. He attempted to open the door, but it was locked. After waiting a moment, he heard a familiar clicking sound and he popped it open. He took a seat in the small sedan and shut the door. His mother turned the vehicle on and began to pullout of the driveway; and with that, their trip began.

Mike rested his head on the door of the car and let his eyes close. He didn't feel particularly tired anymore, but his eyes were sore and his eye lids were heavy, so he figured a few moments rest would do him no harm; even more so since he had nothing else to occupy him. Sleep was not his intention, but he soon drifted off; the pleasant tones of some musician he recognized, but could not name, coming from the radio.

"Mike, honey, are you awake?" His mom asked him, placing her hand on his shoulder gently.

"Huh?" Mike groaned in confusion. "Yeah, I was just resting my eyes." He rubbed his eyes.

"Oh, well, we're here." She said turning the car off; the soft rock on the radio cutting off with it.

"Oh man, how long was I out?" He asked blinking to regain his focus.

"I would say… a little longer than half an hour." She half asked, half stated.

After leaving the vehicle and walking down the parking lot, they both entered the establishment. Mike's mother opened the glass doors that separated them from the inside and allowed Mike to enter in front of her. She quickly followed and passed him as she headed up towards the sliding glass window that was in the front of the room. Mike had intended to follow her, but he stood in place. He wasn't sure of the reason, but he felt very comfortable. He had been there, Dr. Bernard's office, once before, back when he had first discovered the cancer; but now, something seemed different. Mike continued to look around as he walked towards his mother.

"Okay, just sign right here for me." The lady behind the window said to Mike's mother. "Okay… and now here and… here." She said pointing to each spot with the back end of a brown, expensive-looking fountain pen. After his mother obliged to the women's requests, she continued: "And I'm guessing that's your son, Michael?" His mother simply nodded in return. "Okay, we can take him now."

It was with that statement Mike became aware of what was so different, of why he was so comfortable; they were alone. The only people in the clinic – at least to his knowledge – were him, his mother, and the women behind the glass. The last time they had been there it was packed and they had to wait quite a long while to get in.

Mike pondered the reasoning for the lack of people; he knew it could very well be nothing but a mere coincidence, but the stress and anxiety that lie in him left his mind vulnerable to ridiculous, self-induced notions of grandeur and miraculous outcomes. What if there was something wrong with the doctor? Possibly he was known for misdiagnosis and his previous patients had left him? There was a part of Mike that told him how blatantly inconceivable the situation was; it was his rational side, but he chose not to listen to that side. After all, if he had learned anything from his recent bout of depression it was that he needed to think more positively. There was hope all around him; he simply needed to find it.

The woman behind the window disappeared, but she soon reappeared on the other end of a large, heavy, wooden door.

"Alright, come with me and I'll take you back to see Doctor Bernard." The woman said holding open the door as she looked at Mike. Mike nodded and began to walk towards her. As he passed the threshold of the door frame, he glanced backwards. He saw his mom, standing there; she didn't appear to be making any attempt to follow in after him.

"I'll be waiting right out here for you, honey." She said with a soothing smile. Mike didn't like the idea of being alone, being led around by some strange women he had never met, all so he could go see a doctor that would run tests on him. He hated to admit it to himself, but he desperately wanted her to come with him. He knew that if he said something, if he were to simply speak up, she would. She wouldn't have the heart or the desire to turn him down, but he didn't; he couldn't find the words. Mike had never been one to bask in his masculinity or anything of the sort, but even he, someone who was generally humble in most relevant respects, couldn't bare the shame of speaking up and admitting to his fear. So he reminded silent, in a state of quiet desperation. Life, at times, could be so redundant. As the door separating the two rooms came to a close, Mike stole one last gaze at his mother's face, her soothing smile; he also got one last look at the room she stood in, empty and desolate.

The nurse led him down a hallway that was illuminated by fluorescent lights and lined with walls painted white. It was not long until she brought him into a room and sat him down on the bed. He heard the protective paper covering crack beneath him as he sat down. He placed his hands on his thighs, soon balling them into lightly held fists out of discomfort; he swallowed hard as he waited for the doctor. Mike didn't know why he was so nervous; he didn't know why he was afraid. So what if his mother wasn't there with him? Why did he need her to be there? They were just tests, plus, she was right outside if he needed her anyway.

"_This is ridiculous. What do I care if she is here or not?" _Mike reasoned with himself in his head. He tried to convince himself he didn't care, that her not being there didn't bother him, but no matter how much he lied to himself he couldn't deny the feeling in his chest; it was a feeling of uneasiness and anticipation. His stomach seemed to churn with aching displeasure as he waited. It was true, he did want his mother there, but there was more. He didn't know what kind of tests he would be exposed too; he didn't know what kind of information he would be fed, and no matter how much Mike wished and willed for the strength to take it all alone, it just wasn't that simple. It seemed so odd that the last thing Mike wanted was to be alone, yet his mother had left him so she could sit there, alone herself. She had left him so she could sit in that cold, dark space: that enclosed little void. Why?

Before Mike had much of a chance to go any further with his thoughts, Doctor Bernard entered the room, seemingly engrossed in some papers that were placed in his clipboard.

"Hi, Michael. How are you today?" The doctor asked with certain coolness, one that seemed so casual and carefree that it actually made him feel a touch more comfortable.

"A little stressed out." Mike responded, painfully aware of how soft and timid his voice had come out; paranoid that Doctor Bernard had picked up on it.

"Hmm? Why is that?" Doctor Bernard asked him, looking up from his papers.

"Well, you know…The fact I'm here at all…" Mike answered a little short on words. Doctor Bernard gave a quick chuckle.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Doctor Bernard returned to looking at the papers. Mike had expected something a little more supporting as a response, but he figured that if a doctor wasn't sure, it really wasn't their place to give false hope. Still, it would have been nice for him to hear.

"Just out of curiosity," Mike began, breaking the silence in the room. "Do I have a lot of tests to take today?"

"Hmm," Doctor Bernard said flipping a page on his clipboard and then letting the page fall. He then looked up at Mike. "Nope, I only have one test to run today, so no worries."


	32. Not Alone

Chapter 32: Not Alone

"Oh, damn it." Mike groaned as he reached over and silenced his alarm clock. He then proceeded to sit up and throw his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed the alarm clock and held it sideways, struggling to find the knob that controlled the volume. He was growing quite exasperated regarding the horrid screeching each morning, and finally, it had annoyed him enough so that he actually did something about it. He eventually found a wheel on its side that seemed to be pushed all the way in one direction. Instinctively, Mike deduced it was the volume. After lowering it all the way, and then bringing it back up about half way, he set it down and rested his elbows on his knees. At least he was awake.

As Mike went through his morning, his thoughts seemed to taunt him. He knew that it was finally the day where he had to be honest with his friends and Sandy regarding his illness. He was beginning to wish he hadn't put it off so long, that way he didn't have to tell everyone on the same day, and while it was true he could simply delay his call to Sandy, the tension, ironically enough, was slowly killing him. It didn't exactly seem fair to wait another day to call her anyway. It had been a good spell since they had last talked after all.

Mike left his house and began to head to school. At the edge of his street, he saw Lucy standing there, waiting for him. He had to admit that the sight of her was both stressful and relieving: just on varying levels. He definitely enjoyed the time he spent with her, but as he had went over in his head many times since the original realization, he may have enjoyed their time together a little too much. Her presence called his relationship with Sandy into question, and while in the past this wasn't that big of an issue, the situation, as of late, had grown more significant.

"Hey Mike," She greeted him, her lips reflecting her general displeasure, but her eyes expressing her happiness with his arrival.

"Morning," Mike returned the greeting.

"How come you didn't show up at school yesterday?" She asked him, slightly concerned.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that, I had a doctor's appointment." Mike apologized.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Lucy asked with annoyance present in her voice.

"I kind of forgot… Wait a minute… "Mike began, and Lucy looked at him, confused. "Aww, Lucy, you were worried about me." Mike teased her.

"Huh? Well, I mean, I…" Lucy found herself caught off guard. "Well, yeah, I was concerned about you, jerk!" She replied blushing. Now, Mike was the person caught off guard. "I mean… you said you were gonna tell everyone about the… cancer, today." Lucy went on, this time a little calmer and slightly more timid in approach. "I didn't really think you would say something like that and just take off. Of course I was worried about you."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that, Lucy." Mike replied, his cheeks slightly reddened with shame. There was a brief moment of silence between them.

"It's fine, I guess some people are just naturally idiots." Lucy responded, a little bit of her natural pride returning.

"Yeah, and I guess some people are just naturally inclined to be hostile." Mike responded with a victorious smile on his face.

"Nah, that's just a choice." She responded with shrugging motion.

"… Let's just go." Mike said as he began walking; the taste of defeat present in his mouth. There were a few moments of silence before Lucy spoke up again.

"So, you going to tell everyone today?" She asked looking up at him.

"Heh, yeah, I guess so." Mike responded with nervousness in his voice.

"That's good. I'm sure things will get easier when you tell everyone… You're sure you want to do it, right?" Lucy asked him. Although she didn't want to admit it to herself, the truth was, she kind of enjoyed the secret between them, and the more people who found out about his aliment, the more the disconcerting little bond between them faded.

"Yeah, I don't think it's fair to keep it a secret any longer." Mike responded, a small frown on his face.

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

For most of the morning, Mike found himself thinking about what he was going to say at lunch. He knew that delaying was no longer an option, but he wasn't even sure if he wanted to or not. The odd mixture of nervousness and excitement contorting inside of him said that there were positives and negatives to both actions. He knew that telling them would make things slightly weird between them all, but at least if he said or did something stupid, they would know why. It was also nice that he wasn't going to have to keep it a secret any longer. Admittedly, it wasn't the best kept secret, but either way, hiding it was painful to him. At least when he told them, the event would be dealt with and he could focus his energies on getting better and managing his stress.

Mike then remembered that after school he still needed to call Sandy and explain everything to her. Mike could feel his stomach churn with anticipation. Slowly, he was losing his confidence. He really should have made it so he didn't need to tell everyone on the same day. He attempted to calm himself down through slow, deep breaths and hopeful thoughts, and while this worked to an extent, he could still feel a pit in his stomach and an anxious motivation in his restless legs.

After a long day of soul-crushing deliberation and uneasy considerations, the clock finally signaled for a dismissal to lunch. Mike stood up from his desk and walked out the door of the classroom, swallowing heavily. He began to walk to the cafeteria as he planned out his speech. He knew that he probably wasn't going to be able to recite it, no matter how many times he rehearsed it in his head, but it seemed oddly comforting to him; almost as if his planning would make a difference, like he simply had a script to follow. It took off the pressure in some ways.

After a short walk, Mike entered the cafeteria and stopped. He looked at his table and saw a few people already sitting down. He sighed as he began to towards the lunch line. He wasn't sure if it was good or bad that the line seemed to move quickly, but it did, and after grabbing his lunch, he headed towards the table, now even denser with his friends.

"Oh, hey, Mike. How are you?" Sue asked him with mild apprehension in her voice.

"I'm okay." Mike replied with a soft expression and a feigned smile. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. Once everyone who was expected arrived, he would break the news. He couldn't help but glance up to see Paulo sitting there. For a spilt moment, they made eye contact, but they quickly looked away from each other. Neither of them knew what the other was thinking, and neither of them had the courage to ask. When Lucy arrived, she took a seat next to Mike; subconsciously, she moved the chair slightly closer to him than usual.

"Hey, are you still going to do it?" She asked him in a low tone, attempting not to look suspicious.

"Yeah," He replied.

Finally, everyone had arrived, and Mike knew it was time. He could feel Lucy's, Abbey's and Daisy's glances; they were penetrating his soul, forcing him to go forth and confess.

"Guys," Mike began. His voice seemed so sudden and out of place that all of the conversation at the table came to an unnaturally abrupt end; after all, it had been quite awhile since he had last said anything that wasn't simply an answer to a question, and, as of late, he had been acting very bizarre.

"I wanted to let you guys know why I've been acting so weird lately." Mike continued.

"Oh, you haven't been acting weird, Mike." Sue interjected. She said it with the intention of being nice, but she, in reality, only managed to make it more difficult for him.

"No, I have been. I know it." Mike replied. "I mean, I appreciate you saying that, but I have." There was a heavy silence at the table. All eyes were on him. He could feel his breathing become slightly labored as his hands began to lightly shake. He didn't know why he was so nervous. He didn't have anything to fear. They weren't going to judge him. They weren't going to exile him or push him away. They were his friends; certainly they would be there for him.

"The reason is that I went to the doctor and I figured out that I am… very sick." Mike wasn't sure why he was dragging it out. He desperately wanted to just spit it out, to relief himself of the stress.

"What's wrong, Mike?" Tess pressed him on. Mike could see the expressions of everyone at the table. They had all went from happy and carefree to concerned and confused. Mike glanced to his side and saw Lucy looking up at him, smiling. He felt a slight bolt of self-confidence go through him. He wasn't alone.

"I was…" Mike found himself staring at, and almost talking directly too, Paulo. Their eyes were locked. "… diagnosed with cancer."

As the anticipation seemed to all rise to Mike's chest, it seemed as though all the life had left the table in an instant. No one knew what to say. Mike could see the expressions of the remaining individuals all change in his peripherals, but he was focused on Paulo's. His face seemed to have gone to that of horror and distraught-awe. His wide eyes and separated lips showed his regret and displayed his sympathy. Mike's eyes began to trace the faces of everyone at the table, including those of who already knew. He felt Lucy's warm hand rest on his thigh. He was startled at first, but soon he took extreme solace in her touch. There was more to it than just contact: there was support, benevolence, and love.

"Mike… I had no idea." Sue began. "How long have you known?"

"Since Saturday," Mike answered.

"Is there… any cure or something?" David asked him.

"I don't know yet. That's where I was yesterday, at the doctors. He should get back me pretty soon."

"Can we help you or… is there anything you need?" Sue asked him.

"I don't think so, Sue. I just wanted to let you guys know that's why I've been such a jerk."

"It's okay, Mike. We figured something was wrong. I don't think anybody thought it was… quite this bad, but no one blames you." Sue said with a comforting smile.

"Thanks, Sue." Mike replied. Slowly, the tension was leaving Mike as he slowly grew more and more at peace. It was nice it was no longer a secret. Of course, he still needed to talk to Sandy as well. Mike looked over at Paulo. He was staring at his lap, a look of confusion and fear painted across his face.


	33. Apaulogy

**Chapter 33: The Apaulogy **

Mike sat in class, his head resting gingerly in the palm of his hand and his eyes lids drooping with boredom and anxiety. He did his best to focus on the lady in the front of the classroom who was lecturing them on college, and in-between all the typical banter of how 'it will sneak up on them' and how it's 'never too early to prepare', she would insert subtle innuendo that just happened to make the college that had sent her look good. Not only had Mike heard it all before, but he was slightly distracted by other matters. One such matter, and certainly the more prevalent of them, would be his impending call and confession to Sandy.

He wasn't exactly dreading the call, but he was definitely nervous about it. He had all sorts of different scenarios and outcomes playing through his head, some of them less reasonable than others. He knew though that he could no longer delay it; he had kept it a secret far too long.

Although he wasn't entirely sure why, time had seemed to fly by rather quickly, and before he knew it, the lady was packing up and leaving. Mike continued to think, to ponder his situation and the possibilities of his coming actions, as the last few minutes of the day came to an end and the bell rang, dismissing the class. Mike left the classroom and entered the large mass of people all attempting to navigate the halls just as he was. He slipped his way through, and utilizing all the tact he had, he managed to get to his locker. After a moment of fiddling with the lock, his managed to open the small space.

"Hey Mike!" David said with his typical cheerful voice.

"Oh, hey, David," Mike replied. Despite the bombshell he had dropped at lunch, David still seemed to be as he always was. If it had been anyone else, Mike would have been offended.

"Hey Paulo!" David's rang out a few moments later. Mike's hand gripped his backpack as he felt a quick wave of panic wash over him. He wasn't afraid of Paulo, nor was he was afraid of what he could do, but it seemed as though their last similar encounter had left a mark on him; after all, it had been quite traumatizing. Mike set his stuff in his locker and looked up, and sure enough, he saw Paulo walking towards him. Upon seeing his posture, his pace, and his expression, Mike felt all the fear leave him. There was no anger or aggression in his walk, there was only regret and sadness.

Mike watched as Paulo approached him. He couldn't help but wonder what Paulo was going to say, but he expected some kind of apology. Although, this time, Paulo looked much worse than he typically did; it certainly wasn't going to be like his last apology; there was true sorrow in his eyes.

"Hey, Mike." Paulo greeted him, his voice low and quiet.

"Hey, Paulo. Is something wrong?" Mike asked him, already strongly suspecting what it was. There was a brief moment of silence.

"Uh, look, Mike…" Paulo seemed to speak slowly; his voice bathed in apprehension. "I… didn't know."

"You mean that I was sick?" Mike asked, looking for clarification.

"Yeah," Paulo began. "I wouldn't have said all of that if I had known. Then again, I guess I shouldn't have said it at all." Paulo looked at his feet in embarrassment and nervousness as he continued. "Look, Mike, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Paulo. I said some pretty mean things myself." Mike gave a slight chuckle. "I guess I should apologi-"

"It's not okay." Paulo interrupted him. There was another brief moment of silence.

"Why?" Mike asked him.

"I probably would've done the same if I had been in your position… Hell, I would've probably done worse." There was another brief lapse in the conversation. Mike was doing his best to follow along, but Paulo's answer was slightly vague. "Do you remember what you said to me?" Paulo asked him.

"What do you mean?" Mike asked.

"At lunch, you said I was a wimp." Paulo said to him, still not looking him in the eye.

"Oh, yeah, I'm really sor-"

"No," Paulo interrupted him again. "Don't apologize. You have nothing to apologize for." Paulo sighed heavily as he looked up, both his and Mike's eyes locking. "You remember how I reacted? The things I said to you, I mean."

"Um, yeah, I remember." Mike replied, the memories playing back in his head.

"I said all of that because I was angry. All I did was point out that you got mad sometimes, and that you made mistakes sometimes, and that every once in awhile you did something mean. I made it sound like you were that kind of person; the kind of person who did that a lot." There was another brief silence where Paulo needed to recollect his thoughts and to find the rights words to convey his feelings. Mike waited quietly. "I'm sorry I said all of that. I guess it bothered you more than I thought it would." Paulo once again looked down at his feet, his face hot with shame. Mike opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get a word out, Paulo continued. "But what you said to me, it wasn't just some… exaggeration, or some insults taken out of context, or something like that. It was all true." There was another silence as Paulo struggled to the push out the next words, to finish his statement and to finalize his point, but with utmost irony, he couldn't do it; he couldn't admit that he was a wimp like Mike had said he was.

"What do you mean? What was true?" Once again, Mike already had a general idea of what it was, but he wanted to hear it from Paulo. It wasn't out of contempt or revenge in which he desired this; he merely wanted to know if he would say it, if he _could _say it.

"You said I was a wimp, Mike." Paulo managed to force out. "It's true."

"Why? How are you a wimp? You're stronger than I am!" Mike attempted to cheer him up.

"I…" Paulo didn't know what to say.

"See! You say you're a wimp but you can't even tell me why." Mike said to him.

"You gave plenty of reasons that day at lunch." Paulo replied with a bit a snarky tone, doing his best to contain the anger that had grown steadily over the course of the apology.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Mike replied, now he was the one red-faced with shame. He stared at the ground.

"It's… It's alright." Paulo said to him, the anger absent from his voice. They sat in silence for a moment. "So, I guess I just wanted to say I was sorry." Paulo continued. Mike looked up and he saw Paulo looking around the hallways; they had become, for the most part, deserted since their conversation had begun. Mike was about to say something, but he was once again interrupted. This time though, Paulo didn't say anything, he simply stepped forward and hugged Mike.

"You've survived being around me for so many years, you're not going to let something like cancer beat you, are you?" Paulo asked him. Mike wanted to reply, but he was amazed at the amount of concern Paulo was showing. It seemed so unlike him, but then again, Paulo had always been a somewhat compassionate guy, he just didn't experience it very often. Paulo broke the hug. "I'd rather be a wimp then a bad friend, and I figured someone like you would appreciate something as wimpy as that." Paulo said to Mike, both of their faces redder than before.

"Uh, yeah, I do, Paulo. I mean… thanks. I guess I never knew you cared that much."

"Yeah, well, don't get things confused. I'm not gay or anything!" Paulo defended himself.

"I know, but, uh, you're a good friend, Paulo."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, I'm gonna go, but, um, I guess you can call if you ever want to talk or something and… I'm sure you'll be okay. The doctors will fix you right up. I know they've done it for me plenty of times." Paulo said right before he began to walk away.

"Thanks," Mike said to him. Paulo gave a wave without turning around and continued to walk.

Lucy and David both watched the event happen from a distance. They were standing against a row of lockers in a perpendicular hallway, using the wall as cover.

"Wow, I never knew Paulo was capable of something like." Lucy said in astonishment.

"I know," David said with tears in his eyes. "All these years… I thought he was straight, but this entire time he was probably eye-balling me, waiting for a chance to steal my innocence!"

"Wait, what?" Lucy sighed. She then punched him in the back of the head with enough force to knock him off balance, making him hit the ground. "You're such an idiot."


	34. The Past

**Chapter 34: The Past**

"I just can't believe it." Lucy said to Mike as they walked home. "He actually… _hugged _you."

"Yeah, I know. I never thought he was capable of something like that." Mike replied.

"He must have really felt bad." Lucy continued.

"Definitely."

The sky was thick with black clouds, each swollen with water and ready to burst at the seams. Mike looked up and found himself almost lost in the chaos encroaching upon both him and Lucy. There was something oddly soothing about the movement of the clouds, and something inexplicably humbling about the size of their collection. He diverted his gaze away from the sky for a minute to look at her. At first, she didn't seem to notice him. She was also caught up in the helter-skelter beast in the sky. Mike took the opportunity to observe and admire her. He thought back to the night she had spent the night at his house, and when morning came around she had refused to get up. She looked so innocent and natural when she slept; like the constant effort and almost pseudo-determination that she emitted on a regular basis was, in a matter of words, put to rest. She looked like that - as she gazed up in the sky. Her eyes wide, but not curious; her lips low, but not frowning; her body relaxed, but not slouching. He yearned to reach out and touch her fur; it looked so soft and inviting. He wanted to collapse into it, to escape the cool breeze and the damp winds growing around him.

She could feel his gaze, so naturally, she turned to look him. Mike knew he should look away; after all, it was impolite to stare, but he persisted. He didn't _want _to look away. Her deep, blue eyes only added to the captivation, and the innocent expression that he loved so intensely was still prevalent; so he stared.

"What are you staring at, loser?" Lucy asked him, her expression suddenly changing to confusion and mild annoyance.

Mike felt a slight pang of embarrassment and betrayal run through him as he suddenly snapped back into reality. He quickly looked away from her, staring at his feet as he walked. He could feel his face grow hot as he struggled for something to say, something clever or witty, and if that was impossible, at least something better than just awkward stuttering, but nothing came to him. He kind of regretted not stuttering; not saying whatever grazed the tip of his tongue to pull himself out of the pitiful little hole of a situation he was in – despite how inelegant it may have sounded. Now, there was nothing clever or cute in the air, there was only silence and pain.

Lucy was a little surprised at how suddenly the situation had grown tense. She didn't mean to offend him; after all, she was just kidding. If anything, she expected a little embarrassment, some stuttering, and that to be the end of it, but after a few quick moments of consideration, she began feel rather bad. It was odd enough for a person like Mike to be openly admiring her like that, and by doing so, he was leaving himself rather vulnerable. She had taken advantage of that vulnerability without knowing it. Lucy wanted to apologize to him, to tell him that she was sorry for being rude, that it was okay if he wanted to look at her, that she didn't mind it; if anything, she liked it! -but she didn't know how.

Lucy found herself kind of obsessing over the event, but she knew that it was necessary. She had spent most of her life blowing things like that off, and judging by where it had gotten her, she figured that maybe it wasn't the wisest thing to be doing. So after a few moments of self-reflection and grave honesty with herself, she concluded something with near horrifying speed. The difference between her and Sandy, it was right there in front of her. Sandy would have giggled at his admiration, she would have teased him, had fun with him about it – but what about herself? She questioned and insulted him. She had always gotten defensive with him for no reason. She was always defensive…

Suddenly, Lucy knew how to apologize to him. It was hard for her to do, but she felt bad, and in a way, it was almost as if she was punishing herself – punishing herself for being an idiot.

"You're gonna call Sandy when you get home, right?" She began, breaking the silence. Mike looked up from the ground, his face still a little red.

"Oh, yeah, I think it's about time I tell her. I've waited too long to tell her anyway." Mike answered.

"Yeah, how are you gonna break the news to her?" Lucy continued.

"I'm not sure." There was a brief silence. "Probably try and do it quick and just get it over with. No reason to drag it out."

"Like a band-aid, huh?" Lucy asked.

"Hmm, yeah, I suppose it is like that. Shame cancer isn't that easy to remove." Mike joked. Lucy forced a small chuckle to be polite.

"You should try swimming." Lucy suggested.

"Swimming?"

"Yeah, swimming. You know how band-aids always fall off in the pool?" Lucy reasoned.

"Well, I don't have a pool, but I'll be sure to drink some bleach when I get home." Mike responded. There was very brief silence.

"What?" Lucy asked with a stifled laugh. "You're going to drink bleach?"

"What? No. Wait, I said bleach?" Mike asked with surprise.

"Yeah," she answered.

"No! No, no, I meant chlorine!" Mike quickly corrected himself with a slight blush.

"You're going to drink chlorine now? Is that supposed to be better?" She said no longer able to stifle her laughter. Mike grimaced in response.

"You know, it would have made more sense if I didn't mess it up." Mike defended.

"That's… that's…" Lucy attempted to respond, but she couldn't stop laughing.

"It isn't that funny!" Mike said, starting to laugh as well.

"Mike… that's… Oh my God!" Lucy said to him, still trying to be coherent.

"Why are you laughing so hard at this?" Mike asked, laughing harder.

"Mike." Lucy managed to say as she slowly began to calm down and catch her breath.

"What is it?" Mike said, calming down as well, although it was much less a feat for him since he wasn't laughing nearly as hard.

"That was retarded." There was a brief moment of silence before they broke into laughter once again.

Mike found himself reminded of just how much fun he and Lucy used to have. There were some parts of him that wished he could have it back, parts of him that wanted to go back to their previous relationship, but he knew that if he were to ever be in that place with her again, Sandy would have to be out of the picture. There were times he would think about Lucy, and think about having fun with her, but he would put Sandy in the fantasy; he would put her there having fun with them, that way she wasn't being shunned, she wasn't being pushed away, and he wasn't forsaking her or her trust. He tried not to fantasize about that too often though. Not only did the fantasies seem wrong and somewhat adulterous, he always ended up feeling guilt and regret. Years ago, if he had just paid more attention to Lucy… things would have been so much different.

"Oh, that was great." Lucy said wiping a tear away from her eye.

"You know, it really wasn't _that _funny." Mike defended himself.

"I know, I know, it's just… What were you thinking?" She said starting to laugh again.

"Oh, God, not again." Mike said aloud.

"I-I'm sorry." She said wiping away another tear. "I know it wasn't that funny; it was just so stupid." She responded, once again catching her breath.

Maybe it was a little petty, but Mike couldn't help feel a touch of obscure pride well up in him. Lucy always seemed so distant and detached, and even when she was 'there', she was never _really _'there'. There was something about the way she acted and carried herself, something subtle and only noticeable if you were looking for it, but it was almost as if she didn't fit in, like she wasn't comfortable. As if she was perpetually in a fabricated state and always alone. Seeing her laugh though, seeing her having fun, it was a nice change and a rare treat; in a lot of ways it was the same as her expression when she slept or when she lost herself in the controlled chaos of the sky - it was Lucy.

As the winds began to pick up, thunder and lightning started to roll upon the clouds that blackened the sky and tainted the glow of the sun. It was evident that when Mike and Lucy had reached the point where they normally went their separate ways that they didn't have much time to stop and talk; but regardless, they took a few moments to exchange goodbyes.

"Looks like it's going to rain pretty soon here," Mike began. "I guess I'll talk to you later." Mike said with a smile. Lucy smiled back at him.

"Mike?" She opened.

'Hmm?"

"Good luck." She said to him with confidence.

"Thanks, Lucy." There was a brief moment of silence. "See ya later." Mike said a weak wave.

"Bye."


	35. Hormone Induced Excuse

**Chapter 35: Hormone-Induced Excuse **

"Oh man." Mike said, after exhaling deeply. He was looking at himself in the mirror of his bathroom. He knew it was finally time to call Sandy, and even though he was thoroughly dreading it, he couldn't delay any longer. She was waiting to hear from him, to ask about how things were going in his life, and to talk about how things were going in her own. He splashed a little more water in his face, dried his fur, and walked out.

In reality, all Mike wanted to do was curl up in his bed and think about Lucy. He wanted to remember the soft, supple body he had stared at so blatantly during their walk, but no matter how much he wanted it, he couldn't; after all, Sandy had been kept waiting for far too long. Oddly enough, he still couldn't help but ask himself whether or not it was right. There had been several occasions where he had gotten a little bored and wanted something else; maybe times where looking at the same unrevealing pictures got a touch drab. Wasn't it natural to think of someone else on occasion? He did love Sandy, and she was certainly one of the most beautiful people he had ever laid his eyes on, but there were other beautiful people too; he couldn't help himself if he was attracted to them… But was it right to fantasize about them? Was it sick that he wanted to think of people other than Sandy? Was it perverse that he, often enough, wanted Sandy in the same fantasy as those people? He didn't want to hurt Sandy - to betray her, to lie to her, to cheat on her – he just couldn't help himself.

Of course, when all was said and done, Sandy was the only girl still in his thoughts_. _He didn't think of the other girls or of the models portrayed in the media; he thought of Sandy. It was because Sandy was more to him then just some piece of meat. Not to say that he felt that way about his friends or of models, but rather, it was the love he felt for Sandy that changed things, a love that persisted even when the arousal faded. He wanted Sandy for her personality and her looks, so when one didn't work for him, he always had the other to fall back on. There wasn't anything wrong with a few fantasies; after all, that's _all _they were. Fantasies!

Mike was sitting on his bed, staring out his window. The outside was dark and bleak, and the trees swayed with great force from the raging winds that grew increasingly powerful by the second. Soon, he heard the gentle pitter-patter of rain as large droplets of water impacted with his window. Steadily, the slow falling water picked up, and soon enough, he could hear the pounding racket on his roof.

"I hope Lucy made it home in time." He said aloud. He imagined that she didn't, that she walked in her door dripping. Her normally sleek fur, soaked and matted down in disarray, clinging to her wet body. She would grab a towel and start to dry off, rubbing her body with the material slowly, making sure she got _every inch_. She would drop the towel and lean against the wall and begin feel her own body. Mike could feel what she felt; her soft, round breasts contorting gently under the pressure of her hand, the warm space in-between her legs. Her hand would slowly get lower and lower, grazing past her belly button, not missing an inch of her soft fur, until finally it got there. She would rub her thighs, getting closer and closer… Somewhere along the line, his fantasy had grown rather convoluted; Lucy wasn't even wet anymore, at least, from the rain she wasn't.

Mike felt desire flowing through him, a desire that was unlike anything he had felt in a long time, with one exception. It was the feeling of something new and beautiful entering his life. It was the feeling of a flower long since wilted from the bitter chill of winter, brought back by the revitalizing suns of summer. When he reentered his relationship with Sandy, when Daisy had accidently exposed herself during the pep rally, several times when he had been playing roughly and personally with Lucy, and the latest one, the time when was lying in bed with Lucy and almost lost control of his rampant fantasies; all occasions that had brought rise to this feeling.

Mike stood up and walked over to his door. He shut and locked it, but left his hand on the knob. He stopped and thought to himself: should he really do it? Was it sick? Was it wrong? It couldn't be. They were just fantasies. It was physical attraction and nothing more. His hand slid off the door knob and he headed towards his bathroom. He shut the bathroom door and approached his toilet, but he stopped. He looked at himself in his mirror; there was desperation and lust in his eyes. He could see something else there too, but he wasn't sure what it was, and surely didn't feel like taking the time to figure it out. He walked in front of his toilet, brought up the toilet seat, and began to touch himself.

He started off thinking about Lucy kissing and caressing him, slowly getting lower and lower, her tongue running down his person. As thunder exploded outside, his imagination got more and more vivid, and before he knew it, Lucy wasn't the only girl there, nor was it one fantasy. His mind rapidly shifted between Lucy pleasuring him, to Sandy pleasuring him, to Lucy pleasuring Sandy, and too both of them pleasuring him at the same time. There were even brief moments of Daisy; her timid and gentle personality conflicting delightfully with the entity in his head - her claws scratching his chest, her cool mouth caressing and tantalizing various parts of his body, and her natural apprehension for such things dissipating with her love and the unconditional acceptance that seemingly defined her.

It was not long until Mike could feel his desires and lusts culminate into an approaching climax, and with the inescapable end to his fun, his fantasies began to switch. All left his mind except Lucy. He was sitting on a chair, and she was sitting on his lap in reverse, legs spread around his hips, their faces almost touching. He could feel her cool breathe on him as she nibbled on his lower lip. He rubbed her back and slid his hand downward until he was touching her behind; it felt amazing. Mike was seconds away from losing himself and losing his control, but gaining momentary ecstasy as recompense.

"Mike," Lucy whispered to him. Her voice was soft, soothing, and somewhat playful.

"_What is it? What?_" Mike screamed in his head, but his words were not reflected in his fantasy. He could feel all of his pleasure rising up; he was so close.

"I love you." She said to him smiling. Mike felt enormous pleasure completely consume his body as his hand slowed down, soon locking up. He felt his knees buckle as he struggled to not lose his balance, and he felt himself stop breathing. With no control, he let out a loud moan; it was something he had never done during masturbation before. He was glad it was raining, because otherwise, there was a small chance someone could have heard him.

The entire event lasted only a few seconds, but to Mike, time did not seem applicable. His breathing soon came back, heavy and quick, and he slowly became aware of his surroundings once again.

"Oh God." He whispered to himself panting. "Oh my God…" He walked over to his sink and placed his elbows on the counter. He leaned against it, his head hovering above his sink. He turned on the tap, and water poured into the drain. He cupped some of it in his hands and splashed it in his face, washing off the layer sweat which had occupied the space. He exhaled deeply and looked up into his mirror. He looked tired and as if he had aged terribly in just a few minutes. After standing there for a few moments, his weight against the sink and his eyes closed, he slowly calmed down.

Mike felt nausea rise up in his stomach and he got an intense urge to lie down. Not just because of the physical exertion, but because of what was on his mind. He was still thinking about Lucy. He still wanted to curl up in his bed and think about her, not about her body, not about models, and not about Sandy, but about _her_. He had wanted that from the start and he knew it.


	36. Contagious

**Chapter 36: Contagious**

Mike sat on his bed, facing his window, and watched as the rain continued to pour. His view of the neighborhood was blurred heavily from the veil of water droplets that rested on the glass. He had always figured that he was odd for enjoying the constant pounding of rain, but he felt that it was less of a 'pounding', and more of a type of white noise. It soothed him and put his soul at peace. It had helped in calming him down and at assuaging the guilt that tortured him, but only to an extent. Once he started to feel better, he would look away from his window, over at the phone that sat on the other side of his room - the phone he had gotten just for Sandy – and he would feel a dull, sick feeling in his stomach. It was the feeling of shame, regret, and naturally, guilt.

He tried to will the thoughts away, to tell himself he was better off with Sandy and that Lucy was a mistake, but it wasn't that simple. It was almost as if the truth no longer mattered to him. After all, what was the point of the truth if he wasn't happy? Considering what the 'truth' was, wouldn't his happiness conflictingly go hand in hand with it? Maybe in the long term it was better; maybe Sandy could be his 'one', but he didn't know if he was going to have a long term. How could he plan for a variable future? There was also the fact he was only in high school. High school relationships were infamous for failing. What were the chances he would meet his future wife there? Why was _he _so lucky? If he were that lucky, he wouldn't have gotten cancer in first place and none of the issues that lied before him would have ever reared their ugly heads.

Mike looked at his palm. What was he? What was wrong with him? How could he question his relationship with Sandy over a little boredom? He liked Lucy, he liked her a lot. Maybe that 'like' even surpassed her physical body and applied to her personality; regardless of how much he 'liked' her, in the end, she was temptation to deviate from the logical path. He had been taught not to drink, not to smoke, not to do drugs, and he had missed a valuable lesson. There was more to those lessons then just what was on the surface; there was a deeper meaning, something he had not realized previously. He couldn't let a few moments of relief and happiness dictate his life. So what if the future wasn't guaranteed? The future was never guaranteed! He could die from any number of things at any moment. He thought about all the times he had been told to prepare for the future. _Prepare._ He had never been told to prepare for no future, or to prepare for death. If he didn't prepare for the future and it came, then he had to suffer; on the other hand, if he did prepare for the future, and he died young, what difference would it make? He would be dead. There would no-one left to regret the decision, would there?

Mike, feeling a newfound sense of confidence and philosophical understanding, stood up and made his way to his phone. He looked down at it and, with a deep breath, picked up the phone and dialed her number. He thought about hanging up and taking some time to plan out the conversation, but he knew that if he did, he would lose his courage. It would only make the ordeal harder, or possibly, make it not happen at all. He brought the phone to his ear and listened. It was ringing. He could feel his heart flutter as his confidence left him. He wanted to hang up, to retreat to his bed and to cave in to his addiction; to never have to deal with his problems again, but he knew it wasn't right. It wasn't right to him; it wasn't right to Sandy; it wasn't right to Lucy; and it wasn't right to the world as a whole. He felt oddly remarkable at that moment, as if he had discovered some great secret to life. He only wished it was a little easier to act upon his discoveries.

"Hello? Maishul?" It was Sandy. Her voice was twice as decadent as he had remembered it. There was also her familiar accent; it was calming to him. It reminded him of the rain.

"Hi." He replied with mild apprehension.

"Maishul! It's been awhile since you last called." She said excitedly.

"Yeah, you know, I didn't want your mom suspecting anything."

"Oh, yes, I suppose it would be pretty bad if she blocked you. But it doesn't matter if she does or not if you never call!" She replied teasingly.

"Heh, yeah, I guess you're right…"

"Maishul, are you okay? You sound a little down." The excitement in her voice faded.

"Actually, Sandy, there is something I have to tell you." Mike began.

"What's wrong?"

"I went to the doctor a little bit ago, a few days ago, I mean, and I figured something out." Mike continued. Sandy didn't say anything in response; rather, she simply listened in silence.

Lucy was on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Much like it to Mike, the rain soothed her and put her at peace. Chirpy was curled up next to her, drifting in and out of sleep, Lucy's fur her pillow. Yashy was on the ground with Blur playing a card game.

"Mom, why do you just lay there?" Yashy asked Lucy, stopping the card game for a moment.

"Huh?" Lucy responded with confusion as she looked downward. Her eyes were dark and heavy.

"You come home almost every day and just lay there. It's gotta be boring." Yashy went on.

"…I'm just winding down after a long day." Lucy replied. There was a brief moment where she considered answering honestly, telling Yashy everything, admitting her misery and confessing her pain. It wasn't right though. She needn't worry Yashy or anyone else with her problems. The only person she had ever told was Mike, and even that she somewhat regretted; although, his support and understanding had been rather comforting. There was also the fact that her depression had a lot to do with him; of course, 'a lot' and 'entirely' were two completely different increments.

"So, you're okay, right?" Yashy asked, this time with a bit more concern notable in her voice.

"I'm fine, Yashy." Lucy replied softly, a smile on her face and a lie between her lips.

"What did you figure out?" Sandy asked him, breaking their long silence. Mike swallowed hard.

"… I have cancer." He almost whispered into the phone. He heard her inhale sharply, and then, there was only silence. "I'm sorry…" Mike said into the phone, attempting to comfort her.

"Why are you sorry?" She asked, a sob escaping her lips.

"I don't know…"

"It's not your fault, Maishul." She sniffed. "You don't have to apologize."

"I know." Mike replied. He sat and listened to her cry. He wanted to say something, anything to cheer her up, but he knew that simply being there was the best condolence he could offer.

"Where is it?" She asked. There was a moment Mike didn't understand the question, but he quickly picked up on it.

"The liver." He replied.

"… The liver? I thought that was from drinking."

"Well, drinking causes cirrhosis, and the cirrhosis causes the cancer. My cirrhosis is caused by something else though." Mike answered.

"What causes it?"

"I can't remember the term for it. It was primary cirrhosis or something like that. I was more concerned about the cancer, to be honest." He replied.

"Sorry,"

"Huh? No, I didn't mean to be mean or anything. I was just saying that's why I don't remember it."

"Oh," She mumbled before the conversation once again deteriorated to silence. "Is it curable?"

"The cirrhosis or the cancer?"

"Both."

"I don't know about the cirrhosis, I didn't ask about it. As for the cancer, I'm still waiting for the result of some test for more information."

"Is there anything I can do?" She asked.

"No, I don't think so." There was another silence. "How was your day?" Mike walked over to his bed and sat down.

"It was okay, up until… well, this." She answered.

"Did anything interesting happen?" He asked as he lay down.

* * *

I apologize for the poor perspective switch. I attempted to indent as well as use hyphens to make it more clear, but due to FF's poor Document Formatting, I was unable too.


	37. Apathy

**Chapter 37: Apathy**

Mike looked himself in his mirror as he vigorously scrubbed his teeth, the bristles of his toothbrush prying off any remaining stuck-on food, and the minty smell of the toothpaste coating his breath. It was late Friday morning, and with his friends and Sandy off of his mind, he felt like his life was finally getting back to normal; of course, he now had something new to pester him. His mom had told him not long after his call to Sandy that the results of his test were in, and they were scheduled to go see the doctor. Mike spit the foamy contents of his mouth into his sink.

"I should be glad." Mike said to himself as he rinsed off his toothbrush. He attempted to make the best of the situation, but there just wasn't much he could say or do. It was nice he didn't have to go to school, but he was beginning to fall behind in his work for the first time in a long time, and he knew that he was going to have to make it all up, but when all was said and done, it didn't really matter. All that mattered was whether or not he was going to be around to make the work up at all.

Mike wrapped his scarf around his neck and walked over to his window. He glanced out and observed how the minuscule droplets of water that rested on his lawn glistened brightly as the orange glow of the sun impacted and reflected off of them. He wanted to enjoy the beauty of the sight, but unfortunately, it merely reminded him that the grass was too high and needed to be cut. There was always something that needed to be done, and always something to worry about. He left his room and headed downstairs, finding his mom in the kitchen refilling her mug with coffee.

"Morning," Mike said to her.

"Good morning," she replied. Mike walked over to a cabinet and opened it up. He reached in and grabbed a box of cereal. He half expected his mother to stop him, just as she had in many similar events, but she didn't. Feeling a slight-bit of relief, he sat down at the table and enjoyed his meal, or rather, he tried too. His mother had taken a seat at the table with him, sitting in ominous silence, occasionally sipping at her coffee. There was something about her, something about the way she didn't look at him no matter how long he stared at her, something about how she sat almost perfectly still – it bothered him immensely. Steadily, as he sat there with her in his presence, he grew increasingly uncomfortable. Worry seemed to emanate off of her, blanketing him in a shroud of insecurity and doubt, and of result, he made his meal quick so he could retreat up into his room until it was time to go. He didn't blame his mother for making him feel the way he did, and if anything, he felt bad about avoiding her, but the fact was he couldn't properly maintain his own fears while shouldering hers as well.

Fortunately enough, his mom was already ready to leave when he finished eating, so she called him down shortly after he had went up to his room and they left for the doctor's office. He sat in the car, the docile tones of soft rock coming from the radio helping to the alleviate the tension he felt. The trip was not long; for, the distance was not far. The results had been communicated to his general practitioner, thus leaving her with the job of passing the news – good or bad – to Mike and his mother.

When the car came to a stop in the parking lot of the doctor's office, Mike became aware that neither he, nor had his mother, said a single word the entire trip. He looked at her face and observed her expression. On the surface, it seemed to be blank and emotionless, but as he adjusted his gaze he soon realized that it was a mere ploy. He could see that below her deceptive front lied a hurricane of emotion: pain, depression, worry, confusion, anxiety. It was looking at her expression that Mike realized the importance of what was coming. When he had woken up, his mindset had been more about working to fix his life, to bring everything back to normal, to deal with the problems that had already been thrust upon him. He simply wanted to take what he had accepted and move on, but he couldn't be so lucky or deserving.

Mike stepped out of the car – following in his mother's actions. As they walked towards the entrance he reflected on his current state and on his becoming future. Slowly, the severity of the situation began to dawn on him; the moment of the truth was coming. There was a time in days past where he had accepted his own death, come to terms with the impending loss of life that crouched in the darkness ahead, but soon realizing he couldn't possibly live knowing his death was nigh, he altered his thinking; after all, he didn't really know if he would die or not. What if the cancer could be cured? What if he could be helped? Who was he to say it was impossible? He wasn't anybody. The only choice he had was if he wanted to accept the help, and the answer seemed clear enough.

He followed his mom into the doctor's office. She walked up to the front desk, signed them in, and they took a seat. He was moments away from hearing his fate, from hearing from the person who _did_ get to say whether or not he could be helped. He felt sluggish and somewhat nauseous. He crossed his arms in front of his chest as he curled the corners of his lips downward. To add to his overall displeasure, he remembered something - he had forgotten to call and tell Lucy he wasn't going to be at school. He knew he was under no real obligation to do so, but he also knew that it bothered her, and if possible, he wanted to spare her any unnecessary worry, but either way, it was too late, and he really didn't have the mental endurance to worry about her too. He attempted to return to his thoughts of what was too come, but he couldn't. His mind seemed to turn to a blank slate, and with his thoughts atrophied to nothingness, he sat in silence until they were called back.

It did not take long until the inevitable summoning, and with great worry and apprehension, both Mike and his mother stood up from their seats and headed back. His mother _seemed_ normal as she talked with a nurse, but it was apparent to him that she wasn't. Her natural happy and talkative nature was diluted to near nonexistence, and everything she said seemed wavering and hesitant. It was like she wasn't there, as if the words being exchanged didn't affect her. It was as if she were simply going through the motions of conversation. She was nothing more than a mercenary and a dancer.

They sat in a cold and lifeless room; it was decorated with posters illustrating the inner workings of man, and the walls were painted an almost sickening shade of white. The silence seemed almost palpable, but what was there to say? Mike looked at his mother in the corner of his eye. It hurt him to see her in so much pain, to see her in such a subtle, yet conflictingly glaring state of mental disarray, and he knew it was his fault. He didn't want to hurt her, he didn't want to hurt his friends, and he didn't want to be sick, but he couldn't help it. What could he do to help remedy the situation? How could he possibly fix everything alone? He looked at the state of his mother, at the state of Lucy, at the regrets of Paulo, at the helplessness of his other friends and of Blur, and all together it seemed to be a dagger. It was a resentful piece of emotion, refined and sharpened with his self-pitying behavior. It stabbed and tore away at his heart, leaving him a shell of his former-self. He knew there was nothing he could do about the former; after all, as long as he was alive, he had to deal with the hand that fate bestowed upon his person, but the latter was a different story. The dagger could exist and it could try it's best to cut, to stab, to tear, but in the end, it couldn't accomplish anything more than a mere bruise if it wasn't sharpened. All he had to do was grow up, and he would not only be helping himself, but his friends too.

"Mom, I'll be alright." Mike said out of the blue. She looked over and down at him and gave a soft smile. She put her arm around him and embraced him in a hug.

"I know, sweetie." Her soft tone and reassuring words helped to pacify the chaos which were Mike's thoughts. The warmth from his mother's arm seemed to cause his worries to melt away. He was still distressed and anxious, as was his mother, but their bonding helped fill the gap left by the helplessness of the situation. They remained in that state for several more minutes until the doctor entered the room.

"Good morning," The doctor said looking at them both.

"Morning," Mike's mother responded.

"How are you both today?"

"Tired, we're very tired." Mike's mother answered.

"I see, well, I'll just get right into it then. So, as I'm sure you both already know, we got the results back from Michael's test a few days ago. I'd like to discuss them." There was brief moment of silence. The doctor looked at her clipboard and began again. "Last time, we went over how Mike has a disorder called primary biliary cirrhosis. Basically, what it does is it inflames the bile ducts in the liver. This leads to obstruction - trapping the bile. This, over a long period of time, can seriously damage the liver. We are fairly sure that it is what led to the cancer. Fortunately, we were able to figure out the cancer isn't actually in its advanced stages as we had previously thought. It hasn't spread either, which is very good!"

Both Mike and his mother felt relief wash over them, but before they could celebrate, the doctor went on. "Unfortunately, the P.B.C., or the cirrhosis, _is, _in fact, in its later stages. It other words, it has been damaging your liver for a very long time" She looked at Mike, "long enough to give you cancer." The doctor took a seat in front of them, stopping to take a deep breath. "The extent of the damage is severe. We're not sure if your case is particularly bad, or if the P.B.C developed incredibly early in life, but we do know that it has gotten to the point where simple management techniques will not be enough." There was another brief silence. "I am afraid that the only practical solution to Mike's current problem is a liver transplant."

"A … liver transplant?" His mother was mortified.

"Yes, a liver transplant."

"Is it a safe operation?" Mike asked, joining the conversation.

"It has gotten far safer over the years, but the problem doesn't lie with the safety. The problem is actually getting a donor liver. Michael, you're a young and healthy kid. You don't abuse alcohol and I don't see any reason why they would deny you, but it doesn't matter if they can't find a suitable match."

"What?" His mother responded with sudden anger and desperation in her voice, startling Mike. "And what happens if they can't?"

"The cirrhosis will continue to eat away at his liver."

"And? What does that mean? You can't stop it? You're not worried about the cancer but you can't cure this- some disease or disorder I've never even heard of?" Her voice was beginning to break.

"It means that even if we get rid of the cancer before it spreads, the cirrhosis will lead to liver failure, and that would mean death." The doctor's voice was not cold, but it was emotionless. There was nothing she could say or do to help, and she already knew that.

Mike's mother lost her composure and fell into a fit of tears. She hugged Mike, holding him close, not wanting to lose her son.

"What are the chances of finding a donor?" She asked in-between sobs.

"I'm not going to lie; there is a long waiting list. There also aren't very many livers that would fit a boy as young as Michael."

"Oh God… how long do we have? Is there enough time?" She asked, pleading desperately for a fortuitous response.

"About a year," the doctor replied with a serious tone.

"No… no, God, please, no. Please don't take him from me…"

Mike placed his hand on his mother's back in reassurance, but oddly enough, he himself did not feel sad or depressed; although, he did feel confused and somewhat lost. He could feel tears in the corners of his eyes, but he did not cry or breakdown; he simply sat in silent reflection, pondering his situation. He almost wanted to laugh. To laugh at the cruelness of life and at the ridiculous position he was in. All the tears he had shed; all the regrets he had accumulated, and all in the name of cancer. After hearing the cancer was fixable, after hearing that he would be alright, there was another problem – another blister in his mind. No moment of beauty could subsist in his life; for each was doomed a harrowing scar, raping it of its magnificence. They all were granted the same fate: a fall from the glorious heavens – illustrious and gold in nature – to the wounded earth of humility - the everlasting carrion wastes. Everything was twisted and deformed by the wretched hand of irony, by the merciless judgment of coincidence, and by the indiscriminate will of Death.


	38. The Insanity of Humanity

**Chapter 38: The Insanity of Humanity**

"_You should be happy." _Mike was lying on his bed, staring at his ceiling. The sunlight, almost tauntingly, poured through his window; the day, despite his distraught demeanor, went on as though he were a mere Specter. Life seemed to constantly remind him of his insignificance; it always took great care in making him know he was nothing more than an invisible cog in the great machine known as purpose and plan. A small bug to an entity such as the Universe, and like all others – although no other to more an extent – he sat in the palm of God, his life in constant question.

"_I really am ungrateful. Here I am, lucky enough to get a free pass – an excuse to die. I don't have to suffer… or at least not as long as everyone else. Shouldn't I be happy?" _ Mike sat up in his bed and looked around.

"It's not that bad, right? I mean, to do anything in life you have to suffer; to get anywhere you have to work and try. I'm tired of trying!" His voice was low enough so no one would hear him, but still he managed to show excitement – even if it was only for his own gratification. He got off of his bed and walked over to his window. "Heh, look at that insipid little hole. All the unlucky bastards." He almost laughed to himself. "Maybe I should pity them. They're stuck here. Stuck with society; stuck with pain; and stuck with…misery. God, if only they knew." He chuckled and placed his forehead on the glass. "If only they could see the light."

Mike could feel his smile slowly fade. He watched as his breath fogged up the glass, blurring the world before him. He turned his head slowly, and then lifted it off. "I'm such an idiot." He continued to speak aloud to himself. "Such a worthless excuse of a person, such a _waste._ I hate myself, this world, this room, this situation, the irony - I hate it all!" He swung his arm in front of him as if he were swatting away flies - flies ready to feed upon his decomposing flesh. He rubbed his eyes with both hands, and then he started to caress his temples.

"I don't know what to do. What do I do? What do I do? What do I _fucking _do?" Both his hands flew forward in a fit of rage, and he stared at his fist. It seemed so peculiar how he could squash a bug, break a mirror, or kill a person… and all with his fist; yet, the flesh that was its composition – it was so meek and fleeting. It was doomed to die a death of insignificance.

"How will I tell them? It was so hard the first time." Mike sat down on his bed and rested his head in his hands. "_I'm so tired of this. I just want to go to sleep. I want to wake up and for everything to be over with. I want to go back to my biggest problems being schoolwork and dealing with my sister and I just want to be like everyone else. I don't want to die of cancer; I don't want to live in pain; and I don't want this. Is that so much?" _Mike let his body fall sideways. He picked his legs up off the ground and he laid there. "_Maybe it is. This is all life is, isn't it? Pain, stress, agony… It doesn't get better. Everyone always told me to enjoy my childhood, but I didn't know this was coming. I knew it would be hard, but this? No, there was nothing they could have said to prepare me. I always thought there was more to life; I always attributed my pain and doubt to being a teenager. All teenagers have problems, right? It's in the hormones. Could I have been wrong? What if it isn't hormones? What if it's just… life? Then maybe I am lucky…" _Mike took his hands off of his face, his eyes wide, but staring at nothing. "_How could this be it? How could this be all there is? I just want to be happy." _He felt tears fill his eyes as he struggled to contain his emotions, and much like the excitement he exhibited before - as he spoke to himself in the presence of no one - he did it merely for his own gratification. "Wake up." He whispered to himself as he closed his eyes. "Please, God, wake up."

Mike crawled to his pillows and rested his head. He laid there and tried to think, to put everything in perspective. He wanted to come up with a more rational explanation for things, one that wasn't whether or not he should be happy he was going to die, but it seemed no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to do it. His mind was chaotic and his thoughts were in great disarray; so, instead of trying to control his thoughts, he let his thoughts control him. He allowed his imagination to conjure up many fantasies: some of him being pitied while he rejected said pity, others of him being rejected while he pined for pity. He would often look at his door and wish for someone to come to him, whether it was his mom, it was Lucy, or maybe even Sandy; although, he knew that there was nothing any of them could say or do to help.

He lied, rolling around in his bed, a case of tumultuous anxiety resting wearily upon him. He would continually look at his clock, and each time he would find himself surprised at just how little time had progressed. Each second felt like an eternity; each moment another life of possibility squandered and wasted. Every few minutes, the storm within him would grow overpowering, and tears of fear, pain, and confusion would rise up and overflow out – dampening the fur beneath his eyes. He would then sink into a calm state. He would not cry; he refused too. He did not know what it was that caused the feeling to push his tears back, to contain his beckoning sobs; regardless, he obeyed.

"Maybe I should call her." He said aloud to himself. "What would I say? What would she say?" He looked over at his clock. It had only been 20 minutes since he had begun to rest. It seemed impossible to him. He sat up for a moment. He was tired of being alone, but he feared the company of others. He stood and walked to his door, and without a conscious thought present, he walked out. He went downstairs, the faint sound of the living room television alerting him of his mother's location. He found and looked at her. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, her body was wrapped in a blanket, and she seemed to be transfixed on the television; yet, it was apparent she did not care as to what went on in its fantastical world. She looked over at him, her expression softening, and she motioned for him to come over to her. Mike obliged and took a seat next to her. She wrapped her arm around him without a word, and he felt his body collapse into hers – her motherly love and warm exuberance soothing. She sobbed, but to Mike, she mourned; she mourned her deceased son. Mike did not share her pain; rather, he did, but he did not share her mechanism. He sat in silent longing, listless emotion, and dreaded confusion – staring with her at the fantastical world in the television.

He spent many hours finding escape in the animated box before him; so many, in fact, that when his sister returned home and his mother took her upstairs to inform the little girl of her big brother's potential – as well as soon approaching – mortality, he continued to look on, and when the sun fell away, only to be replaced by the dim light of the moon, his continued to look on, and when his brother required attention and tending too, he continued to look on, and when his mother dismissed herself to her room to sleep, he continued to look on. There did, however, come a time when his weary mind and body gave in to the grasp of nature, and he fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes he was surprised to see his ceiling and feel his bed. He had not remembered falling asleep, let alone going up to his room, yet there he was. He figured that he must have woken up at some point in the night and groggily made his way to his room. He also considered the possibility that his mother had, for some reason unbeknownst to him, taken great effort in carrying him to his bed, just as she had done when he was younger; although, he did recognize the notion as quite ludicrous.

After getting up to quickly use the restroom, he headed straight back to his bed to get some more rest. It seemed that, with his life span shortened, all he wanted to do was sit around. He had always imagined that if he had found himself in such an ill-fated position he would be far more lively, more inclined to do and say dangerous things, but ignorance was like a set of goggles, and with those goggles removed, he could see that the opposite was true.

Hours later, feeling a certain pang of hunger in his stomach, he emerged from the covers of his bed and headed towards the kitchen, and it appeared as though his house was disserted. He could not hear or see his sister, his brother, or his mother –not even Blur was accounted for. He entered the kitchen and sitting on a counter-top was an out-of-place piece of paper. He walked over to it, and just as he had suspected, it was a note.

"_Michael, _

_ I got a call from grandma and she isn't feeling very well. I took everyone and headed over there. I didn't want to bother you so I let you sleep. There is food in the freezer and you can invite over a friend if you want. AS LONG AS I HAVE MET THEM BEFORE. I love you and be careful. Don't open the door for anyone, and if you need anything call me at 555-973-3795. Call me if you need ANYTHING! Love you!"_

"Huh." Mike said aloud. "I'm alone."

Mike walked over to a cabinet, opened it up, and removed a box of cereal.

"_I wonder why she didn't ask if I wanted to go." _Mike thought to himself. "_It's not like there's anything to do here. Well, I guess there isn't anything to do at Granma's either. I can't forget it's like a five hour drive either." _Mike removed the container of milk from the refrigerator, causing something to catch his eye. It was a jug of cheap wine. He stopped for a moment and stared at it, feeling an odd sensation of precocious desire rise up in him. No one was around to catch him, and no one would know; not to mention, he didn't need to get drunk, but he could always just drink a little. Maybe just to taste it, or maybe to even get a little buzzed – as people called it.

"No, that's stupid." Mike remembered the last time he had drank, and it had almost gotten him and his friends seriously hurt. He closed the refrigerator door and walked over to the cereal. After getting a bowl, he mixed it all together, and put the ingredients away – this time, not even giving time of day to his disconcerting tendencies. He then sat down to eat. He sighed heavily before taking his first bite; there was nothing to do but worry, and he knew it.

It was not long until Mike found himself in the living room, once again finding escape in the tranquilizing radiance of the television; except it seemed as though something was different. Before, it had failed in making him feel good, but it had at least assisted in assuaging his chaotic mind and it had helped in keeping him from feeling worse; that no longer appeared to be the case. Every minute that went by he felt worse. Every second he sat there it seemed as though his mind got more unruly and his body got heavier. Every moment felt like an eternity, and it soon got to where the television itself was doing nothing. He was falling into his own little world of worry and doubt and he could not find an escape.

After about half an hour of idle staring, Mike could feel himself becoming enraged. His mind screamed at him, telling him he was worthless, that he was doomed to die a death of an unremarkable tool, and the television did nothing but add to the noise. He would see the people in that fabricated world, the happy little lives, and he would be jealous. It was sick and wrong that those people were allowed to live perfect little lives when people like him had to suffer, and sometimes, for no reason. Why were they so lucky? He clicked the television off; he didn't care what those people had, wanted, or did.

He sat in silence, staring at nothing. He could feel anxious energy rising up in his limbs. He wanted to move, to run, to punch; he wanted anything to relieve the pain, yet ironically, it were those very feelings that exhausted him in ways that were beyond explanation. He felt so angry, so unhappy, so trapped. What was he supposed to do? How could anyone live with every moment like so? He walked up to his room, sat on his bed, and rested his face in his hands.

"Maybe I could call someone." He looked over at his phone. He felt an odd sense of déjà vu at that moment. Everything seemed too familiar. "No, there isn't anyone that could do anything. If I called Lucy, I would just end up doing something I would regret. If I called Daisy, she would just piss me off. If I called Abbey, he would just piss me off. If I called Paulo, he would probably just piss me off. If I called David, well, he would probably piss me off too." He laughed to himself as he started pacing around his room. "Then what the fuck am I supposed to do? What do you want me to do? There is nothing to do, no one to talk to – no, wait, that is precisely it. There is nothing to do! Maybe I could call mom, but like she could do anything. Maybe Sandy? Nope, she couldn't do anything either. I'm stuck here, alone, dying, but you know, it does seem rather appropriate. After all, it isn't anyone else's problem is it? It's mine because I was the one _lucky enough _to get cancer. I was the one _blessed _enough to be granted a fast and cold death. You know what? There is no confusion! I'm not confused! I finally get it. You know, when you really put things into perspective you really start to get it!" Mike was practically yelling. There was no one in the house to hear him, no one to judge him. He could say and do what he wanted and none of it could be out of turn. "This is life. This is shit. So, it's pretty easy to come to a conclusion, annnnnnd, if you haven't figured out what that is, it is that _life, is, complete, fucking, fuck._" He laughed to himself. "No, no, I'm just kidding, I mean it's just complete shit. I just wish I had the fucking- the fucking- to just… to just fucking end it! I mean, why should I live? Is there a fucking reason for it? I'm guessing not, because I sure as hell haven't seen one! All there is is pain!" He punched the desk in the corner of his room as hard he could, a loud bang ringing throughout the house. "…Fuck!" He yelled as he leaned against the wall, clutching his fist. He could feel a sharp pain running up his arm. "Oh, don't be a pussy, Michael. This is nothing… nothing compared to everything else." He inhaled deeply, tears filling the corners of his eyes.

"That felt pretty good." He said to himself, his voice much quieter. He left his room and headed downstairs. "Who would've thought that being left alone could be this much fun?" He walked into his kitchen and turned on the stovetop. He stared at it, watching it steadily get warmer and warmer. "Hmm, that really didn't hurt that bad, but this? This probably will." He laughed. "This is gonna feel good, and you know what? If this cancer is going to kill me, maybe I should just help it out!" He could feel his heart beating faster as he stared at the stove. "Yeah, this is gonna hurt." He spread his hand wide, the same one he had used to punch the table, lifted it in the air, and held it for a several seconds in nervous anticipation. He then, in one moment of manic insanity, smacked his hand down on the burning stovetop as hard as he could. He did not last more than a second before he quickly lifted his hand in the air; a pain he had never experienced in his life surging throughout his whole body. He gripped his hand in agony. The pain was so unbearable he was unable to let out anything more than a mere yelp before becoming silent. He shut his eyes for several seconds, and as he started to get a solid grasp on his surroundings once again, he ran over to this sink and ran his hand under cold water. It did nothing to either soothe or hurt. The pain continued to throb and radiate up his arm.

"Ergg, God! Why did I do that?" He said in tears. "Oh God, oh God, oh Gooooood!" No matter what he did he couldn't get the pain to go away. He looked at his hand and he could see the fur was burnt - his skin red and peeling. He turned the sink off, then immediately turned the stove off as well. He then walked over to the edge of the kitchen and sat in the floor, clutching his hand, and holding back sobs. He let his body fall over, allowing him to lie on the dusty floor. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it wasn't worth it, but all he knew was that he was so distracted by the horrific pain in his hand that he didn't care about the cancer, he didn't care about Sandy, he didn't care about Lucy, he didn't care about his mom, and he didn't care about his life. He closed his eyes, tears flowing out, and exhaled slowly.


	39. The Waltz 1 4

**Chapter 39: The Waltz 1/4**

"Mike! Open the door!" Lucy shouted, banging on the front door to Mike's house. She tried the knob, but she soon found it was locked and went back to pounding away. "I know you're in there!"

"Alright! Stop hitting the fucking door!" It was Mike's voice; he sounded distraught, angry, and short-tempered, and as a result, Lucy was slightly taken aback. She waited a moment, soon hearing a click as the door unlocked. It then opened up and revealed Mike - a heavy frown, drooping eyes lids, a sweaty forehead, and reeking of alcohol. "What is it?"

"What the hell… Mike," Lucy was blown away at the display in front of her. "What the _hell _are you doing?" Mike laughed in response.

"Oh, me?" Mike asked with a low, drunken tone, waving around the large, but almost empty jug of wine as he spoke. "I'm just having a little drink! Care to join me?"

"Oh my God… you're completely drunk! How much of that did you drink?" Lucy was still in shock and awe, but slowly as she grasped the situation, she could feel anger boiling up in her.

"I dunno! I guess it was up to about… here?" He used his hand as a marker and he placed it towards the top half of the jug.

"Mike, that's… that's retarded."

"Okay, well, um, I'm sorry we can't all get as happy as I am, but I offered you some, alright?" His words were slurred, but he was still coherent.

"You have liver cancer."

"Thank you for that. I really appreciate the reminder. I guess I'll have to find more to drink now!" He stumbled away from the open door, leaving Lucy standing in pure mystification.

"No, Mike, you can't drink! You're killing yourself!" The anger in her was replaced with only fear and concern.

"I was dead… the day I woke up."

"Woke up? What are you talking about?"

"Can't you listen? When I was born, I was born into death. There has never been… a… " His voice trailed off. "I don't know, and I don't have time for this."

"Jesus Christ, Mike! You're completely out of it! Here, no more, give me the rest of the wine."

"What? No, get your own!"

"No, I don't want the wine; I just don't want you drinking anymore." She could feel her fear and concern beginning to revert back into its original state – anger.

"Oh, you selfish bitch, how predictable."

"Wha-"She stopped and took a second to calm herself before continuing, "Just give me the beer, Mike."

"…Okay." They both stood in place for several moments, a heavy silence occupying the space between them.

"Well?"

"I gave you the beer."

"No, you didn't." She said through clenched teeth.

"Ha, tricked you! This isn't beer, it's wine! There is no beer!" Mike broke into a fit of insipid, inebriated laughter.

"_Give me the wine!" _Lucy screamed at him, interrupting his fun and causing his laughter to immediately cease.

"… No." He looked at her with an expression of a petulant child looking at an angry teacher. She walked towards him.

"Fine, then I'll take it from you."

"Oh, really? I just happen to be a hell of a lot stronger than you." The sudden callousness of his tone and the remorseless look in his eyes made her stop in her tracks. "You know what? Why are you even here at all, Lucy? You come bitching and pounding on _my _doorand I open it up, doing whatever the fuck I want in _my _own house, and you start trying to judge _me_. What do you want? Why did you come here in the first place?"

"For your information, Blur came over to my house and told me you were alone and acting crazy. He thought you were going to hurt yourself, or him." Mike stared at her, his eyes slowly growing wide.

"What? What did you say?" Lucy stepped back as he took a step towards her. His mouth was slowly opening, his eyes were alight with passion, and there was a hurricane of twisting emotions in his expression. "Are you telling me Blur was here?"

"Um, yeah, he was… under your bed." Lucy was really beginning to worry Mike could hurt her. She could feel the emptiness of the house beginning to close-in, and she thought about running for the door and getting her mom. She had thought she could handle him, no matter what position he had gotten himself into, but moments prior he had made a compelling argument – he was much stronger than her.

"No." Mike shook his head back and forth in disbelief. "I can't… He wasn't here. He couldn't have been. He didn't hear me. No, no, no." Lucy watched on in fear as he started to pace rapidly. "He heard me; he heard everything. Oh _God_, I thought I was alone." He started to breathe heavier. "Oh God, he thinks I'm crazy." He stopped and looked at Lucy, his chest rising and sinking in with each deep breath. "What did he tell you?"

"He told me you were talking to yourself and walking around… and then he said you went downstairs and he heard you scream. Then he saw you walking around and drinking while you kept saying weird things and grabbing your hand. He was really worried." Mike swallowed hard as he lifted the burnt hand up and stared at it. "Mike, what's wrong with your hand?" Lucy asked. Mike slowly turned the violently shaking appendage around, the palm facing her, causing her to gasp in disbelief and slight disgust. "What the hell did you do?" Mike ignored the question as he sighed heavily and walked towards his living room. Lucy saw the look in his eyes; there was no more anger, hate, or belligerence – there was only regret.

After closing the front door to his house, she followed him into the living and found him sitting on his couch, staring at his lap. His expression was soft and he looked as though he could burst into tears at any moment. She sat down next to him, doing her best to stomach the smell of alcohol.

"I was an idiot, Lucy." Mike's voice was soft and low. "I was sad, and I was alone, or I thought I was, and I started…" He shook his head as he grew silent.

"… What happened…?"

"… I started talking to myself."

"What did you say?"

"I just said stuff… about how I'm worthless."

"I don't think you're worthless, Mike."

"It doesn't matter now. Blur thinks I'm insane, and so do you."

"I don't think you're insane either, but why were you talking to yourself?"

"I don't know!" I just- I just don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore!" He looked at her in desperation.

"Well, drinking obviously isn't going to help!" She yanked the bottle of wine out of his limp hand.

"I know…" He said looking back down at his lap, dejected and overwhelmed with regret. His ears were low and he sunk deep into the couch.

"I'm sorry, that was a little harsh."

"No, it's fine. I'm an idiot. I deserve it. A drunk idiot."

"You're not an idiot, Mike." He didn't respond to her. "…What did you do to your hand, anyway?"

"I burned it." He turned it palm up so they could both look at the damage.

"Why?" She asked both bewildered and disturbed.

"It hurt so much…"

"What do you mean?"

"Everything… I thought it would help. God, I'm such an _idiot_." He squeezed his temples with his hand.

"Why did you think it would help?"

"… I'm worthless, insane, stupid…"

"Mike, why did you do it?"

"Because I needed to fucking escape!"

"Okay, okay, calm down. You're starting to act weird again."

"Yeah, well you should get used to it! Apparently, I'm fucking crazy!"

"Mike, no one is calling you crazy."

"I am. Then again, why listen to a crazy person? A crazy person couldn't tell if he was sane, which would mean that I'm wrong and… I'm…" Mike's voice trailed off once again, soon leading into a heavy sigh as he let his head hang.

"Look, I'm going to call my mom. You need-"

"No! Please, don't call her." He begged, his whole body stiffening in response.

"Mike, what do you want me to do? You're sick!"

"Please… I don't want anyone else to see me like this. This isn't me. I'm just… I don't know… just please don't leave me." The look in his teary, bloodshot eyes: it was pitiful.

"I'm not gonna leave you, Mike."

"Yes you are." Mike whined to her. "You're lying to me, I know you will."

"… Alright, I won't leave you, but if you want me stay and keep this between us, you have to promise to listen to me."

"Okay."

"Now tell me, when is your mom getting home?"

"I dunno. I don't think it will be today though."

"Alright, well, let's just watch some TV then, okay? We can just relax and wait for you to go back to normal." He nodded softly in response.

"Can I have more wine?"

"No!"

They spent the next several minutes without saying a word, the noise of the television the only thing standing in the way of total silence; but it was not long until Mike fell sideways and rested his head on Lucy's lap – not stopping to ask for permission. He swung his legs over the side of the couch and looked up at her.

"What are you doing?" Lucy asked blushing, slightly unsettled by his unpredictable behavior.

"I just wanted to lay down. You don't mind, do you?" His voice was tired, his expression was slightly pained, and his lips hung lazily into what seemed to be a somewhat indistinct frown. She could tell it wasn't some drunken advance or any sort of trifling joke – he really did just want to lie down.

"No, it's just… You surprised me a little, that's all." Mike didn't respond to her, and they spent the next several moments in silence before he spoke up.

"I'm really sorry, Lucy."

"Huh?"

"You could be at home, enjoying your weekend, but you're stuck here taking care of stupid me." Lucy sighed in response.

"It's fine; it's not like I had anything better to do today anyway."

"… Anything has to be better than me. I'm pitiful, annoying… mean."

"No you're not," She began with a quick laugh. "If anyone is pitiful, or annoying, or mean, it's me."

"No, you're just in pain. Something I should have realized a long time ago." Lucy was slightly caught off guard by his retort.

"W-what do you mean?"

"You were always second best to Sandy." Mike chuckled softly. "Don't blame her though, it was my fault. I left you for her, and the entire time I knew deep down that is was wrong, but I did it anyway. I didn't want to leave you, but at the same time, I did. I wanted to help you and be there for you, but I didn't know how. You were a problem… and I tried to run away from you." Lucy could feel tears building up in her eyes, but she held them back. Something about his words made her feel oddly vulnerable and open – it was a bittersweet feeling.

"No, you were a great friend. I was… I was annoying. I clung on to you; I hit you; I was mean to you… Honestly, I would have ran away from me too."

"Lu-

"Why did you even bother staying with me as long as you did anyway? Thinking back, all I ever did was pick on you and make fun of you… even when we had fun together I was still insulting you and being mean. So tell me, why did you even bother?"

"… I loved you." There was a brief moment of silence as she felt tears dampen the fur beneath her eyes, unable to hold them all back any longer.

"Why? Why did you love me? There were plenty of other girls who you could have easily gotten with - ones who looked better, acted better, ones who _were _better. You always wanted _me_ though! Why was _I_ so special?" She struggled to hold back her growing sobs.

"That's why. You said it yourself: you were special. You weren't like everyone else; I felt like you were another person. Someone who was honest and didn't lie or… or didn't try to please me just because I'm me, and I knew that if I won your approval, I would have everyone's.

"And why did that change with Sandy?"

"… I don't know."

"Yeah you do, you know exactly why you-"

"-I was tired of you." Lucy almost gasped at his answer. She had planned on saying just that; she was going to answer for him, but he stopped her before she had a chance. He had said it with his own mouth; they were his own words. "I'm sorry." Lucy didn't respond, she focused all of her energy on stifling her sobs and biting her pain. They spent the next minute in silence; Mike watching Lucy cry, and Lucy not wanting to cry in front of him.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For crying, you can't even have a serious conversation without me getting all whiny."

"I don't think you're whiny. I just hate it when you cry. The tears always blur your beautiful eyes." Lucy looked at him blushing, her lips parted slightly in surprise. She then smiled softly.

"… Mike, you're really drunk."


	40. The Waltz 2 4

**Chapter 40: The Waltz – 2/4**

As the serious discussion came to an end, it seemed that the serious air in the room went with it. With their minds at rest and Lucy's tears shed, they spent the next few hours talking, sharing stories, watching the television, and laughing at Mike's drunken silliness. It seemed that despite all that had been said and done that day, their friendship was still as strong as ever – if not even stronger. Their playful bickering and conversing went on until the phone rang.

"I'll be right back; I bet that's my mom." Mike said standing up. He had sobered up slightly as the night had progressed, but his voice was still slightly slurred and he was still a little disoriented.

"Hello?" Mike asked, bringing the phone to his ears.

"Oh, hi mom, I figured it was you." He went on.

"Everything is a-okay on this end! How is Granma?"

"Oh, you're not?"

"Oh, well, Lucy is over, I could maybe see if she wants to stay." He and Lucy made eye contact.

"You don't sound too excited about it."

"Okay, hold on a sec… Lucy, do you want to spend the night? My mom isn't going to be home so I'm gonna be alone."

"I'll have to call my mom, but I don't think she'll mind." She answered.

"She said it was okay."

"Oh, you mean Lucy? Don't worry, I won't do her." Lucy looked over at him with wide eyes and her mouth slightly agape.

"I-it was just a joke!" Mike said with forced laughter into the receiver.

"Heh, don't worry, I'll be good."

"So, Lucy has to call her mom now. I'll talk to you later?"

"Like I said, I'll be good, and I love you too."

"Bye." He then hung up the phone.

"What the hell was that?"

"What?"

"Why did you tell your mom you were going to do me?" Lucy asked, redness lightly coating her cheeks.

"No, no," Mike began, laughing. "I said I _wasn't _going to do you."

"That doesn't make it alright!"

"Well, what do you want me to tell her? That I _am _going to do you? I thought you were classier then this."

"Classier? What are you saying!"

"Oh, nothing," Mike replied with a sing-song way about his voice as he took a seat next to her.

"Stop being so damn condescending!"

They spent most of the evening munching on various foods and continuing what they had been doing for most of the day – watching television and talking to each other. Steadily, Mike grew more and more sober, but not necessarily coherent. It seemed as the night set in and the sun fell away, Mike found himself growing increasingly dizzy and nauseous. It started off subtle and hardly noticeable to him, let alone Lucy; but that changed with time, and it was not long until it took a turn for the worst.

"Mike, are you okay?" Lucy asked concerned. "You haven't been talking much."

"… Yeah, I'm just… I'm just feeling a little sick." His voice was low and his words were quick. He didn't look at the television; instead, he looked to its side where there was no movement to agitate him. He had tried looking at his lap, but looking down caused the world to spin and made the food in his stomach rise. She put her hand on his forehead and he felt a cold, tingling chill sweep through his body at her touch.

"Hmm, I think you have a fever." Mike felt an odd mixture of fear and anxiety rise up in him. He didn't like the thought of being sick without his mother's presence, and while he did have Lucy to help him, it simply was not the same. "Come on, I think you need to lie down."

"I don't want to get up." He almost whispered to her. "I might throw up."

"Tell me when you think you can, alright?" Her voice was comforting and somewhat motherly; it helped put him at ease and assuage the desire he had for his mother.

He had planned on waiting, hoping that he would feel a little better with time, and if not enough to keep watching the television with Lucy like he had wanted, at least enough so he could make it to his bed without fear of vomiting, but it was several minutes later when Mike concluded that things were not going to get better and that he was better off getting up to his room before things got worse; so with great apprehension and a growing urge to vomit, he told Lucy he was ready. She helped him stand and walk, but unless she carried him, the journey was not going to go very fast. Every few steps Mike had to stop to keep from vomiting, and going up the stairs was a trial of its own, but despite all of that, they eventually made it to his room where he flopped down on the bed and rolled over to his side – his eyes feeling as though they were rolling around in his head and his stomach feeling as though it were lodged in his throat.

"Just try to sleep, okay?" Mike had no desire to argue with her demand. "If you need _anything_ just say so and I'll get it for you, alright?" He nodded his head very slowly in response as he pulled his covers up to his neck and clung on to them for dear life.

It was late when Mike's eyes shot open and he was in the darkness of his room, looking around frantically. Everything was blurry, his entire body was soaked, and he was gravely disoriented. He figured he had woken up from some kind of nightmare, but he could not remember what was going on in it, and he didn't have the time or energy to think back and figure it out. As he became more and more aware of his surroundings, he began to become increasingly aware of a rising feeling in his stomach. Despite his almost paralyzing dizziness, he got out of bed and headed straight for his bathroom. He felt himself grow slower and slower, knowing full well that if he didn't slow down he would quickly give in to his body's need no matter how much he detested the idea.

It didn't take long before he was standing in front of his bathroom, the room spinning around, his hand over his mouth, doing his best to hold in the rising substance, but it was all in vain; he had completely stopped moving, knowing if he took another step he would lose it. He then felt a mass quickly rise up in his throat as he quickly retracted his hand and vomited on to the floor; the food splattering in an oily pile in front of him. He sank down to his knees, shaking hard and sweating profusely, spitting the remaining excrement in his mouth into the pile.

"Mike?" He heard Lucy's voice from behind him; it was calm and concerned. It was then he remembered that she had spent the night with him. The event itself would most likely have been far more embarrassing if he had felt less as though he were knocking on Death's door, but he was in such a miserable state he simply did not have the effort to be anything more than slightly ashamed.

Her hand rested on his back and slowly went back and forth as Mike's head hovered wearily above his own regurgitation, ironically observing the texture and color as he struggled not to add more to the pile. Fortunately, it seemed as though the immediate threat had passed, but with any sudden or jarring movements, the looming threat overhead could still strike.

"Do you feel any better?" Mike didn't respond; he didn't want to speak. "Do you wanna go lie down?" Mike knew that he did, but he motioned towards the bathroom, wanting to both wash his mouth and assure he didn't need to get out of bed for any other reason. Lucy helped him up; he then stepped over the small pile on the floor and closed the door.

When he emerged, still dizzy and fighting back his nausea, he saw Lucy by his bedside setting down a glass of water. She quickly rushed over to him and made sure that he made it to his bed without falling, and while it certainly wasn't necessary, he found her presence oddly pacifying.

"My bed is soaked." He managed to mumble, and it was true; there was perspiration reaching all the way from his toes to his ears.

"Here, just wait one second, okay?" Lucy walked away from him and he let his body slowly fall as he rested his head on his pillow. He hated the feeling of the cold sweat on his side and back, agitating his already shivering body - which seemed to be stuck in some twisted space that could not be considered hot, cold, or tepid, but was rather all at once.

"Alright," Lucy said to herself as she kneeled down, unfolding a towel beneath Mike's sink. "No, that's too small… Okay, this should work." She then shoved the few unkempt towels on her lap back into the space - with the exception of one she draped over her shoulder - and went back to tend to the sweating feline in the other room.

"You've gotta sit-up for me, Mike. Come on" She did her best to help him up, but there was little she could do; after all, she didn't want to yank him up and cause him to vomit again. When she finally got him on his feet again, she placed the towel across his side of the bed, covering the large, boy-sized wet spot.

"There," she said, prompting for him to lie down. He didn't wait a moment longer and proceeded to sit and then fall sideways into the fetal position. Mike closed his eyes and tried to reach for his covers, but she stopped him.

"No, I'm sorry, you can't cover up."

"Why?" Mike asked, his voice weak and high-pitched. Lucy almost cringed at how pitiful it sounded.

"You have a fever. If you cover up, it will only make it worse. I'm not gonna let you get any worse, okay?"

"_I owe you that much, at least." _

Mike didn't respond. He simply lied there, holding himself and shaking violently.

After using the other towel she had taken to clean up the vomit on the floor, Lucy walked to the side of the bed opposite of Mike and joined him. She scooted up next him and placed her hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch in response. She gently rubbed his arm, being sure not to agitate his sensitive skin. Lucy laid there, the images and sounds of moments prior replaying in her head. She wasn't sure why, but there was something oddly nice about taking care of Mike; it seemed to help lessen the feelings of self-contempt and guilt that she felt almost constantly. There was also something strangely cute about seeing him in such a helpless state and in hearing him vomit.

It was not long until Mike's battle with the almost constant feeling of nausea and the disorienting disestablishment of temperature came to an end, and he managed to drift off into a restless sleep. The entire time, Lucy didn't leave his side, and even when she drifted off and her hand stood still, it remained on his arm; it reminded him that he wasn't alone.


	41. The Waltz 3 4

**Chapter 41: The Waltz – 3/4**

With a body of stone and a lifeless mind, Mike opened his reddened eyes. He wiped the crust in their corners as he gave a large, stifled yawn. Lucy was next to him, sleeping soundly - her expression sincere and innocent. He focused in on her face, checking to see if he was still dizzy, and much to his delight, his vision was not in seemingly variable motion any longer. He knew that it did not serve as a guarantee of his health's return to a normal state, but it did serve as an adequate start - surely the best one could ask for.

He sat up and looked around his room for several moments; then, with great finesse and acumen, he got out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. Before entering, he stopped and turned around. He found himself unable to get over the welcoming expression of peace and compassion that seemed to rest on Lucy's face; although it did seem to him – given recent events – that the look was far more appropriate and befitting than it had ever seemed before.

After getting an eyeful of the slumbering cloud upon his bed, he closed the bathroom door and looked at himself in his mirror. He felt his heart tighten as he mulled over the thought of death. He was reluctant to admit it to himself, but he could not hide from the truth; and that truth was that telling Lucy would be far more difficult than telling anyone else. How sick and wrong it was to forsake Sandy and not to share feelings of equal, or rather superior, concern, but Mike looked closely at the person in the mirror, and he thought back to all the other times the person in the mirror had looked back at him. It was not the same individual; each occasion Mike looked in that mirror, there was someone else to see.

Mike left the apparition to its own as he entered his bathtub to wash away the filth that covered him – giving off a rather rancid odor. He turned on the hot water, giving it a minute to warm up, and from there he messed with the knobs until he was comfortable with the temperature. He then turned another knob causing the water that poured from the nozzle at his feet to pour out of the showerhead above him. He let the warm liquid cascade on his body as he felt his muscles relax and he felt his stress melt away. He moved his head in a circle, rubbing his sore neck and glaring at his scarred hand.

He spent several minutes simply enjoying the shower and washing himself, soon being interrupted by a knock on the bathroom door. At first, he wasn't sure if he had truly heard it, but after a moment's consideration he concluded that there was nothing else that could have given off such a sound, so in response, he called out:

"Hello?"

"Mike, it's me."

"Lucy? What's wrong?" He asked her. She responded, but he couldn't make out what she said. "Open the door, I can't hear you." He saw the door crack open as she slipped her head inside, almost as if she wanted to hide her body just as he hid his. She had a slight redness on her cheeks.

"I need to use the bathroom." There was a slight bit of both shame and annoyance in her voice; Mike could not determine which was prevalent.

"What? Use the downstairs bathroom."

"I checked it and there isn't any toilet paper."

"Ugh…" Mike groaned. "Can't you wait?"

"Do you really think I would be standing here talking to you if I could?" Lucy snapped and Mike sighed in response.

"Alright, alright, you'll be quick, right?"

"Yes, I'll only be a minute… "

Mike's head disappeared behind the shower curtain.

"You better not look, either!"

"Ew! I should be telling that to you!"

"…Why would I peek on _you?"_ Lucy asked, as if the thought was repugnant, before sighing in relief.

"Well, why would I peek on _you_?"

"You tell me, you're the pervert here." She rebuttled.

"I'm the-? Hey, I'm not the one coming in to use the bathroom while _you're_ showering, am I?"

"Pfft, you wish."

"If I cared about that kind of thing I could just look out right now, couldn't I? It's not like you could stop me… Hmm, that gives me an idea…" Mike said slyly, smiling to himself.

"What? Mike, I swear to God."

"Something wrong? Don't like the thought of me_ spying _on you? …I'm gonna do it." Mike teased.

"Mike, I swear to God, I will literally kill you. I will literally kill you in this bathroom."

"You can't stop me… I'm getting closer to the edge… I'm gonna look out!"

"Stop being a pervert!" She shouted at him.

"In my defense, I'm not a pervert… yet." Mike suddenly slipped his hand out and smacked the wall directly in front of her. He heard her let out a quick, inward squeaking sound in surprise. It was the type of noise that he seldom heard from her; it was cute, but before he had a chance to laugh, he felt something hit his hand, causing him to yell and retract it in response.

"Ow! What the hell was that?"

"I could ask you the same thing!"

"It was just my hand. Christ, I was just messing with you. I wasn't really going to look…"

"Well… you know… there are better times to mess with a person!"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, but you didn't need to throw something."

"Maybe you'll think twice before deciding to pull that crap again." She said, breaking off a piece of toilet paper. She picked up the bottle of hand soup that she had thrown at his hand and chucked it over the shower curtain. It barely missed his head before it hit the ground making an alarmingly loud racket.

She washed her hands and looked over at the shower curtain. Despite the words she had previously shared with Mike, and while she reluctantly admitted it to herself, she desperately _did_ want to peek. She knew it was rather perverse of her to want to see him like that, unknowing and uncovered, but she couldn't help it. There was something about the thought of him, wet and innocent; it made her burn with desire at the thought and filled her heart with needy malaise. If it wasn't for the strong chance of being caught, she would have buried her pride and looked, collapsing into the crushing desires of her young female hormones and her troubled mind, but the risk was simply too substantial.

Lucy lay down on Mike's bed and listened to the sound of the water coming from the bathroom. She thought back to the night before, thinking about how she had taken care of the feeble feline and done her best to comfort him. The thought alone made her face grow hot and it made her toes curl in embarrassment. She wasn't sure why, but it seemed so much different when he was sick; it was so much more natural for her to watch over him and make him feel better. She wanted to say she felt like a mother or she felt like a good friend, but she knew that was a lie. She felt like a girlfriend, like a wife, like a lover. She wanted to guide and watch over the person who had, and would, do the same for her. And seeing him like that, vulnerable, in need of help – how could she possibly not?

She pondered why it was so much easier to show affection and love when he was sick, as opposed to when he wasn't. After all, if she could figure it out, then just maybe she could change things - maybe she could steal him away from Sandy. She could allow the discouraging thoughts that seemed to plague her endlessly a victory, and she could live up to her naturally sickeningly twisted nature; although, that consideration alone was conflicting. If she was too truly live up to her pitiful thoughts, she would simply not accomplish anything; for she felt herself to be worthless and incapable of such a remarkable feat. How could she trust her own reasoning, when that same reasoning proved to be her greatest vice?

It seemed odd, and in some ways wretched, that she would continue to think about him. So twisted was the mere consideration that she held some sort of entitlement to take him away from his _true love_. Who was she to commit such a crime? Was she someone of profound wisdom and theory who had conjured up a nonsensical and self-serving reason for such a sin? Regardless, her thoughts carried on, but in an ironic attempt to cleanse them, she converted her considering to fantasizing.

With great lust she yearned for him, and she yearned for his love. She wanted deeply to touch him, to kiss him, to love him… All such saddening and absurd thoughts! They left her in a forlorn state; in a perplexing position of phantom comprehension and feral desire.

"I'm sick." Her smiled melted away as she stared at the ceiling above. She heard the water in the bathroom shut off, and listened as Mike moved around, dried off, and brushed his teeth. The sounds were faint, but partially audible. Soon, he left the steam-filled bathroom, a towel wrapped around his neck, and he exhaled heavily.

"Oh man, I feel a lot better. Neck is still killing me, though." He walked over to his side of the bed and sat down. He turned around and looked at Lucy. She looked back at him. "Something wrong?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I'm okay." She lied. "Sorry about interrupting your shower."

"Nah, it's fine. I did kind of just get up and jump right in." He chuckled in response. Mike lifted the towel from his neck and wiped his face. He then threw it on the floor and stretched out on his bed next to Lucy. He had one hand beneath his head and the other rubbing his neck.

"What's wrong?" Lucy's voice was flat and tired.

"Oh, it's just my neck. I must have slept on it wrong or something. It's been bothering me all morning."

"… If it's bothering you, I could maybe give you a neck rub." Mike looked over at her, both of their faces a faint shade of red; Lucy's noticeably darker.

"You… want to give me a neck rub?"

"Well, if you don't want it, that's fine. I just figured that it might be nice, or something." She looked away in embarrassment, quickly regretting blurting out of the offer.

"No, wait, I mean, it does sound kind of nice." He answered. "I was just a little surprised." Lucy looked back over at him. He had a soft expression and a warm smile. She felt her cheeks grow even hotter as she swallowed hard. She didn't like being embarrassed, but the only thing worse was people knowing she was embarrassed. At that moment, she had the most peculiar of urges to insult him, and of why, she wasn't entirely sure, but she willed it away. She knew with particular certainty – almost instinctual - that it were those urges that had played integral roles in the declination of their relationship, as of late.

"Okay, sit over here." Lucy said, swallowing and getting out of the bed. Mike scooted over to where she had been and waited for further instruction. "Flip over." Mike quickly complied and the instant his eyes left her, she felt herself grow profusely more at ease; although she was still very nervous and apprehensive. "Where is it hurting you?"

"Right here," Mike replied, touching a spot on the left of his back. Lucy slowly brought her hands down and placed them on his warm fur. Mike felt himself tense up. He knew it was wrong, but her touch filled him with powerful emotions and it gave him mental release equal to the resulting sexual build-up. As her hands gently caressed him, he felt himself beginning to breathe heavier and he struggled to contain his growing physical excitement.

"Does that feel alright?" Lucy asked him.

"It feels amazing." Mike almost whispered to her. Lucy smiled softly to herself. Her confidence was growing and the regret she had felt earlier was beginning to melt away, along with the tension in Mike's neck and shoulders. She moved her hands a little more freely, occasionally venturing down to his back and then back up to the problem area. She had started off with the sheer attempt to assuage his pain, but she was beginning to shift her focus - in the most subtle way possible - from therapeutic to pleasurable, and possibly even arousing.

Lucy continued to massage him for several more minutes, her hands slowly getting more and more venturous, and all of it with no arguments from Mike. As she rubbed him, she felt a deep rumbling start in his chest and increase until it was tenderly vibrating her hand. She could hear a subtle noise coming from Mike's throat; it was much like a roar mixed with an airy crackle.

"…Mike?" She asked, her hands stopping.

"Hmm?" The vibration and noise came to an abrupt end.

"Were you… purring?"

"Sorry, I'll stop if it bothers you." He replied, his voice reflecting mild shame.

"No, it's okay. You can keep on… It was… nice." Lucy resumed her rubbing of his back, and slowly the light rumbling picked up again.

It was only a matter of time until the neck rub evolved into a backrub, and it was after that occurrence that Lucy found herself contemplating further exploration. She had a crushing desire to free her hands to their wondrous tendencies and adventurous proclivities. Her eyes seemed glued to his bottom as she rubbed; her face burning red with more than embarrassment. She could feel her hands growing lower, and as her legs gently rubbed together and she gnawed on her lower lip, she was losing her ability to control herself. She wanted him more than anything and thinking of him – whether of his body, soul, or presence – seemed to render her to a state of heavy emotion. She fought back tears of newfound hope and aspiration, and she slowly gave into her hungering infatuation with what is not meant to be.

Mere moments before doing something brash and possibly regrettable, Lucy found her actions interrupted by Mike's words:

"Hey, Lucy, I'm feeling a lot better now. Thanks a million." It was with those words that the harrowing young girl felt a hurricane of emotions swirl within her. She felt the gripping sensation of anticipation leave her, but she was also left with an unfulfilling void within. Her appetite still remained, yet her meal had left her – or so she thought.

"Oh, yeah… Anytime…" She responded to him, a touch discouraged.

"You can come back and lie down… if you want." Her heart started to beat intensely hard as she felt the fires of sexual ravenousness climax within her. As she crawled into the middle of the bed, she thought to herself: how could she maintain her composure? She knew it was no excuse, but once she looked into his caring, green eyes and once she smelled the unique scent of his person, which was embedded in his bed sheets, she would suddenly lose her grasp of all right and wrong – this much was clear to her.

She lay her head down next to his, and just as she had feared, he looked at her: his face a touch reddened and an unreadable expression on his face, but worst of all, the same cradling green eyes that had threatened to overwhelm her. She looked at him, her face burning hot. She had to fight the inclination to go forward and kiss him, but it was an uphill battle – one she was quickly losing. There were no words shared between them for several moments, and for Lucy, what seemed to be several minutes. Feeling slight shame, Lucy could even feel her evident arousal beginning to dampen the fur in-between her legs. She knew she couldn't stop herself much longer.

She planned on kissing him, on going forth with her plan and quite possibly throwing everything away; but before she had a chance to gamble their friendship, she was once again interrupted. This time though, it was not by words, but rather by actions: Mike's head slowly grow closer to hers. Her eyes almost seemed to glisten with mystification as she watched the majesty of the situation unfold before her. Mike grew closer and closer, and finally, with what seemed to be a wait far longer than seconds, but rather one that was months - possibly even years - overdue, his warm lips impacted with hers.

Lucy waited for him to regret his decision and to pull away - after all, how could such a beautiful moment exist? Especially so in her dark and drab little life, but he didn't pull away. He continued to kiss her; soon, his lips opening and his tongue probing for entry. Lucy thought to herself how it was possible, and she considered that maybe all the years she had endured of crippling depression, crushing self-esteem problems, and perpetual confusion had finally come to end. Maybe it was all build up for that kiss; for that little moment they were sharing right then. She did what she could to give back and to make the kiss as enjoyable for them both as possible, but as was her nature, she felt herself submit, and she felt as though no matter what Mike did at that moment, no matter how far he went, she would voice no objections.


	42. Unprecedented Postponement

**Chapter 42: Unprecedented Postponement**

She sighed heavily as she slipped her key into the front door of the house. The moment she walked in she felt great relief overwhelm her. It felt good to finally be back at home, and she was glad she could be back to keep an eye on Mike. It was not necessarily his judgment she did not trust; rather the judgments of everyone else. He was young and susceptible to the articulate communications of those with wretched desires, and it was for that reason that she took great comfort in being there to watch over him, at least until she deemed him old enough to do so himself.

She had an urge to call out to him, but she ignored it. She was too tired to bother, and while she did not completely acknowledge such mistrust and suspicion, there was also a slight desire to catch Mike doing something he shouldn't be. She didn't, for very long at all, think that he would be immature enough to do something substantially wrong, but as a mother, and even more so as one of a teenager, the thought was only natural. She was a kid once too, and she knew for such a fact that hormones could lead a young person – boy or girl – into doing things they were not normally accustomed too. After leaving Chris to nap on his own accord, she made her way to his room. She walked softly, attempting to sneak up on him, yet not willfully acknowledging it.

She arrived at his door and opened it up. She stood for a moment in the doorway, her lips spreading as terror overcame here. Indeed her son was in there, but he was in quite the compromising position: his physical parts visible and his lips locked with the white harlot beneath him. Both Mike and Lucy heard the door open, and they looked over to see none other than Mike's mother standing before them. The silence in the room grew intense as each set of eyes in the room started to grow wide. Mike became suddenly aware of his exposed appendage and he quickly fell to Lucy's side and covered himself with the blanket.

"Mom, y-you're back!" He said to her, his cheeks a deep shade of red. She didn't answer. She simply stared at them for several more soul crushingly tense moments, and then left the room – closing the door behind her. Mike looked at Lucy, and Lucy returned the glance. Mike felt a peculiar urge to laugh, almost as if he had won some sort of psychological battle with his mother, but he knew that the laughter was misplaced and he had been the victor of nothing. He could feel his heart beating as lust, fear, and embarrassment flowed through him. The door to his room opened once more and his mom looked inside. She stood for a minute, a look so dead and flat on her face it caused the fur on the back of his neck to stand up, and then she walked away – this time leaving the door ajar. Mike swallowed.

Lucy sat on the bed, her face glowing red and her heart pounding. What had just happened? She had, at some point, drifted into a sort of ecstasy, and her mind seemed to flow with the river of pleasure that was her being; but that was over, and she could feel her thoughts overtaking her. She didn't know what to think, and she didn't know what was going to happen. She stared at Mike, waiting for him to do something. She hated to do it, but she was afraid, and once again she required his greater wisdom and discipline: she needed his help.

Neither of them said anything, and before that could be changed, they were both distracted by Mike's sister. She ran up to his door and peeked in. Her face was inquisitive, but oddly so. Mike had figured his mother to have told her something, most likely to go to her room and to close the door, and he knew if that was indeed the case, something unfortunate was about to occur. She waved at them – innocent and taunting –then was quickly on her way.

"Mike, should I… should I go?"

"… I don't know. I think it might be best – at least for now."

"Okay," Lucy responded. She crawled off his bed and matted down her unkempt fur. She felt very conscious of the slight stickiness that had built up in-between her legs, but she did her best to put it to the back of her mind. She knew that no one could see it or recognize it, but still, it was hard to forget about – even more so when it felt so obvious to her. "I'm gonna use the bathroom real quick, okay?"

"Right."

When she emerged from the bathroom she saw Mike sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes wide and alert. He was staring at his lap, but he soon looked up at her - blankly.

"My mom wants to talk to us."

"What? She wants to talk to _me_? Why?"

"I don't know. She just came in here and told us to come down when you were done." There was something in his voice, an odd type of contemptuous disregard for her feelings; yet, it seemed that any and all scorn was not to be aimed at her, and she was merely a bystander in his venting. It was understandable, but it did not make her feel any better. And surely, she was just as stressed as him?

They went down the stairs to the living room where his mother sat in a bitter silence. Neither of them were positive as to what they should expect, although both of them had an idea of what was to come. They stopped in front of her, Lucy directly behind Mike, following in his steps. His mother urged them to sit down, and Lucy did just as Mike did. She stole a glance at his face and found herself slightly surprised. Mike had always seemed to her - while set in his ways and quite determined - never one for conflict and often submissive in many respects, but his expression: it was livid and quite unphased by the pressure of the situation. He looked and carried himself like a General that was walking into the heart of the enemy's base - for the purpose of negotiations.

His mother, however, saw something much different. She saw petulance and rebelliousness. She saw something that she had feared for the longest time; something that all kids – if not people – exhibited at some point or another. It was true that Mike had, unlike what she imagined of most kids, shown very little of it over his life, but that was in a way a vice for her. She could see in his eyes, eyes that were determined and remorseless, eyes that were worn far past their ages, that he was privy to this fact, as well. There was no doubt in her mind that given the chance, Mike would – whether spoken or silently, whether blatantly or subtly – present this to her.

Mike's mother sighed heavily as she dragged her hand across her face in quiet exasperation, and both Mike and Lucy watched on in silence, their expressions unchanging. Lucy frequently looked over at Mike nervously, hoping for him to look back, but he didn't.

"What were you both doing?" She finally spoke up.

"What do you think?" Mike responded with uncalled-for anger.

"I think you were doing something very stupid, Michael. I _think _you were doing something that I… that goes against what I raised you too do."

"What you raised me to do? What was so bad about it, anyway?"

"You know as well as I do what you were about to do!"

"I'm not saying I don't! I'm asking why it matters. Why does it matter to you? It is my life to _apparently_ throw away!"

"I'm not saying you were throwing your life away. You were being selfish!"

"I was being- h- how was I being selfish!" Mike sputtered in anger, his voice cracking as it rose in defiance.

"You were throwing Lucy's life away!"

"I was throwing Lucy's life away." He almost laughed. "Excuse me? You don'tdecide for Lucy! She is old enough to decide for herself!" Lucy's face grew hot.

"Michael, this isn't about having fun, okay?" Her voice became far more intense, yet notably quieter.

"Then what is it about?" He cut her off.

"This about Lucy being left with a baby she can't take care of!" There was a moment of silence. Mike stared at his mother, fervent and resentful of her words. "What were you going to do, Michael? Do you have any protection? Were you going to take care of that baby, or were you just _really _hoping it wouldn't happen? Give me a break! Do you think I'm _that _naïve? I knew you were going to grow up someday, Michael. I knew you would find a girlfriend, and I knew you would both do things I'd rather you didn't… I didn't raise you better than that, but I did – or at least I thought I did – raise you above something as stupid as impregnating some girl in high school!" She was alive with anger. Mike swallowed.

"W-we weren't going to do that. I mean, go that... far." There was still a hint of defense in his tone, yet, he was far quieter and much more respectful.

"You say that now, but let me tell you, if I hadn't walked in at the right time you don't know what you would have done. I've been there Mike; I know how easy it is to make a mistake."

"N-no! That isn't fair! I am _not _you. Just because you wouldn't have been able to stop doesn't mean I wouldn't have been able too!"

"How do you know that? How do you know you would've been able too?"

"How do you know I wouldn't of?"

"Michael, you aren't getting this. It doesn't matter, because you _could _have ended up with a baby. And so what if you're right? Is a baby worth a little fun?" His mother stared intently at him, waiting for a response, a defense, but he said nothing. "And what about Sandy?" Both Mike's and Lucy's eyes widened. "How is this fair to her? Did you break up with her? Does she know about this?"

Mike stood for a moment looking at his mother. His expression had softened and his heart was beating intensely. Finally, he sat down in defeat - embarrassed, lethargic, and cramped. He had lost the will to argue with her, and while he didn't agree with her accusations against his willpower, he had lost the ability to go on. Exhaustion had taken a hold of him and he could feel regret advancing with its slow creep.

"Lucy, maybe it isn't my place to say, but what were you doing?" His mother asked. She looked up for a moment in shame, and soon went back to staring at her lap. "I know your parents raised you better than this, okay? Do you think they would be happy to hear about this?"

"No."

"Do you think I should tell them?"

"Please, no."

"… You both need to promise me something." Her voice softened and became the same sensitive, caring voice they were both accustomed too. Lucy looked up, but Mike kept looking off to the side - petulant and defeated. "Promise me you won't do something like that again? It just isn't fair, not to either of you." There was a moment of silence.

"Okay." Lucy answered, uncharacteristically timid and surprisingly intimidated.

"You promise me?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'm taking your word for it, and since Michael isn't mature enough to make the promise too, I'm going to have to trust that you have the willpower for the both of you."

Lucy began her walk home feeling oddly distant from herself, yet also fearful. The words instilled in her by Mike's mother slowly ate away at her: she needed to have more willpower than him. Was her fear misplaced? After all, Mike had more willpower than her, didn't he? But, and Lucy could not help but ask herself, what if he didn't? When his warm body was atop of hers and when their lips were intermingled in a passionate dance, her mind was blank. She doubted her ability to say no, and if Mike couldn't do it for her, what could be their fate?

She then pondered another situation. What if the opportunity never arouse again? What if Mike regretted his actions and abandoned her? She didn't like the potential complications of their weakness, but she could not bear the consideration that her and Mike may never be in such a complete pose again. She sighed heavily and looked down at the sidewalk. She felt an odd mixture of melancholy remoteness and fulfillment. When she got home she would call him. She needed to know how he felt. If she was required to, she would force herself to be strong; she would do anything as long as it meant she could stay with Mike.


	43. The Dance of Evolution 4 4

**Chapter 43: The Dance of Evolution 4/4**

Mike stared listlessly at his ceiling. Every joint in his body ached with exhaustion and the only thing he could think about was the poignant desire for physical release. Possibly, if he hadn't felt so bad, he would have been able to grant himself said release. He wasn't entirely sure what he was to do. Frequently, a stray thought of Lucy, or of Sandy, or of the cancer would graze him, but it would quickly flutter away. He turned his head sideways and gazed out his window.

Without warning, the door to his room flew open and his mom entered. He jerked his head in her direction, startled.

"Michael, why are you doing this?" Her voice was strained and cracking; her expression was sullen and forsaken; yet, her eyes seemed wild and fervent. Mike looked at her, confused, even a little scared, but soon the reasoning behind her ravished appearance became clear to him: she was holding a jug. It was, in fact, the very same jug that had once contained the wine he had consumed in his embarrassing and shameful drunken stupor. Even while knowing why she had pounced upon him suddenly and mercilessly, he did not know what to say. His mind seemed to go blank with excitement and worry. They both stared at each other for several moments, and Mike's mother felt such an agonizing disappointment for her kin. She found herself – much like him – at a loss for words. She could only look upon the pitiful creature in front of her and shake her head in momentary disgust. She closed the door to Mike's room, leaving him to his thoughts – whatever they could be.

She stood still for a moment, clenching the jug tightly in her hand, pondering her situation. She could feel fear and regret lodged deeply within her person, and she blamed herself for her son's mistakes. If she had done a better job of raising him, of protecting him, and of guiding him, then none of those mistakes would have been made. For so long she had looked upon him with pride, seeing an aspiring, young man with immense potential, and she had always accredited herself for raising him alone. She had justified her drab, family life - one that consisted of little more than work and home – with her children. She had always thought of them as her way to make an impact on the world. She had given her life and her dreams to them, sacrificed herself so they could be successful, and she had not done enough. Even at that moment she felt resentment for herself; she resented the fact that she doubted them, that she doubted Michael because of a few mistakes – mistakes he was surely inclined to make at some point.

Maybe she had done a good job, maybe she had done a bad job; all she knew was that, in the end, it didn't matter. The burden of life, and of love, and of responsibility, and of dedication, and of all other things human lay in the hands of her children. She could be there to help prepare them, but there came a time when she could do nothing but hope for the best. There came a time when she had to relinquish her hold upon them and finally allow them to grow up. She had to let fate become more of a deciding factor in their futures than she was.

She descended the stairs of the house, a slew of emotions twisting and intermingling within her. It seemed that all together they left her tired and lethargic. She entered the kitchen, threw the jug back in the garbage can, and then proceeded to make herself some coffee. As it brewed, she entered the living room and took a seat. She didn't turn on the television and she didn't listen to any music; she simply sat in silence.

"God, what the fuck is wrong with me." Mike put his hand over his forehead as he whispered to himself. He was once again lying on his bed, staring out his window. His foot tapped the air impatiently and uncomfortably as he struggled to get a grip on himself and on his thoughts. "I didn't do it to spite you… Why would you fucking think that?" His whisper was strained and airy. The tapping of his foot seemed to pick up in speed as he grew increasingly anxious and disgruntled. His heart pounded and his eyes filled with tears. Psychologically, he desperately wanted to cry; he wanted to do anything that could possibly free him of his growing mania, but physiologically, he couldn't. He thought about forcing it, constraining his muscles and making himself cry, but he would feel too ridiculous – too pitiful. It would only make him angrier.

Mike sat up and hung his legs off the side of his bed. He placed his elbows on his knees and placed his head in his hands; his foot still tapping wildly and impatiently. He looked up and across his room. Sitting on a table, staring at him tauntingly, was his phone. It seemed to laugh at him, mock him for not having the courage or the answers regarding Sandy – his official girlfriend. He felt nausea rise up in his stomach and he could feel his muscles flex tightly- seemingly involuntarily.

He got off of his bed and stood, looking around for several moments. He had somehow, within those few moments, forgotten his plans, so he walked to his window and looked out upon his neighborhood.

"I have Lucy, right? Right?" He brought both hands up and grabbed at his face. He slowly dragged his hands down in misery, but stopped halfway. He lifted them off and looked at them. Appropriately, it appeared the scar from his prior fit of dementia remained. A great exhaustion seemed to overtake him. He hugged himself, and let his head rest against his window. He steadily rocked back and forth, doing all he could to free the anxious tendencies nearing an explosive climax from his body. It had been those very feelings which had driven him to hurt himself, and afterwards, drown himself in alcohol.

After several minutes, his rocking slowly came to a stop. He allowed his eyes to open; he was far calmer, but he was still depressed and demoralized. He lay down, fearing a resurgence of his prior anxiety. He heard the phone ring, but he ignored it. He didn't think it was Lucy, since she had only left a short while ago, and if it was anybody else – including Sandy – he didn't want to talk to them. His mother answered, and a few shorts moments after he heard her voice ring through the house: "It's Lucy!" She sounded tired, slightly annoyed, but also making an attempt to come off as forgiving. Mike felt a quick bolt of excitement and energy surge through him. Despite how short a time it had been since they had last talked, he was very much eager to do so – in light of recent events. He quickly got out of bed, walked over to his phone, and answered.

"Hello?" He asked, trying to hide his eagerness.

"Hey, Mike." There was click from his mother hanging up.

"Lucy! How are you doing? I'm really sorry about what happened with my mom. Can you believe she found the wine bottle?"

"Oh… I'm sorry." Lucy replied, a bit overtaken by how quickly he spoke.

"No, no, no, it's fine! I'm sure she'll get over it. If not, I'll just play the cancer card." Mike quickly regretted his choice in words, and judging by the resulting silence, so did Lucy. "…So, um, how are you doing?"

"I'm doing okay. I'm just a little tired... I just wanted to call to make sure everything was alright."

"Ah," Mike sat on his bed, his temporary burst of energy beginning to wear off. "Look, I'm really sorry about what happened…" He paused a moment. "I di-

"It-

"… I was just gonna say I didn't think she would be home so early."

"It's fine." There was another awkward silence between them before Lucy once again spoke up, breaking it. "So, about what we did…."

"Yeah?"

"Y-you… don't regret it… do you.?" Lucy was glad that Mike couldn't see her: her cheeks were burning red in shame. Regardless, she couldn't hide how forced her words had sounded.

"No, of course not! It was… it was fantastic."

"Then… what about Sandy?" Mike was silent. It was a question he had feared, and one that he did not previously believe her capable of bringing up – and so soon! He struggled to answer, not to leave her forsaken and saddened, to spare her the pain of uncertainty and doubt, yet his mind failed him, and in silence he sat. "Oh…" She went on, almost inaudibly, but quite dejectedly.

"No, wait! Lucy… I love you." It was not his intention to say such a thing, but only to stop her from rightfully assuming his feelings regarding Sandy; yet, when the words came out and sparked another silence, he did not feel regret for saying them. It seemed, since things had come on so rapidly, that it was an excuse and an illusion, even to him. But was it really such a far cry? After all, he had known her for years, and there was a time in the past where he had felt in a similar way. His doubts, they were mistaken, they had to be. It was not the creation of such feelings in which he relied upon, yet the rebirth.

"… What?" She almost whispered in the response.

"I love you."

"… That's a lie." Her voice broke, and Mike could detect soft crying over the phone.

"No, it isn't. I promise."

"… If Sandy was here, who would you choose? …And tell me the truth." The question was hard for Lucy to voice, but it was also difficult for Mike to hear.

"…I would take you."

"Mike," she replied, doing her best to cover her almost infantile display of emotion, yet doing so unsuccessfully. "I'm gonna have to call you back." He had to stop himself from laughing out loud - possibly belligerently. There was something about the way she had uttered the words; it seemed so cute and helpless, and the very thought drove him wild with a very queer lust.

"Alright," he said to her, his tone soft and amused.

It seemed that, despite his earlier depression, exhaustion, and anxiety; Mike felt quite refreshed. There was a warm feeling in his chest and an urge to shed tears of joy. He felt as though his wish – of being close to Sandy – was soon to be granted; and although Lucy would be in her place, it would be just as fulfilling to him.

Soon, the phone rang again, and Mike, this time around, did not waste a moment in answering it.

"Hello?"

"It's me. Sorry about that."

"It's fine. It was almost a little cute to see you - well, _hear_ – you break down like that." He confessed.

"… You're so gay sometimes." She said after a quick laugh, blushing intensely.

"Hostile," he said in a rudimentary tone, frowning.

"Gay," She responded, playfully, a slight silence overtaking the conversation. "So… what are you up too?"

"I'm just lying here, thinking, talking to you. What are you doing?"

"Eh, nothing, I was thinking of maybe getting a shower. You know, to wash off the, uh, well, yeah…" Her voice faded off towards the end, knowing that she had already said too much. Mike felt a slight twang of arousal shoot through him as he instantaneously became far more fascinated with the discussion.

"The 'uh-well-yeah,' huh?" He replied, feigning ignorance in order to prompt an explanation.

"Uh, well, yeah." She replied, almost sarcastically, sparking a moment of chuckling in them both. "But, yeah, you know, the… the stuff." She went on, her face burning red.

"Stuff?"

"Yeah, you know, when we were… kissing… and stuff." She replied sheepishly.

"Oh… oh!" He acted as though he were surprised. There was a slight silence before he went on. "So, um, was there… a lot?"He felt himself growing quite aroused, and he had already started planning his actions for after their conversation.

"…Maybe." She answered, but fearing an awkward end of an intimate moment, she continued. "I mean, I'm kind of… um, sticky." The last word came out low, almost inaudible.

"… Really?"

"Uh huh."

"So, what does it feel like?"

"Well, um, besides sticky I guess it's kind of smooth. You know, kinda velvety, at least when it is- or, well, first comes out."

"Oh, so, it isn't like that now?"

"Ehm, not really."

"Does it feel good? When it first comes out, I mean."

"… Yeah, it kind of does, but, you know, it is kind of there for a reason." She said with a quick laugh.

"Heh, yeah, I suppose you're right." Mike brushed his hand against his genitals lightly, feeling a strange lack of control coming over him.

"… So, guys, like, um, have a similar type thing, right?"

"Oh, well, we kind of do, but I don't think there's as much there as there is with girls."

"Oh, I see." There was a brief moment as they both collected their thoughts. It was apparent what they both wanted to do, but neither of them had the courage to bring it up boldly and brashly.

"So, you seem to know a decent amount about… your… stuff." Mike felt his cheeks darken. He felt ridiculous for his obtuse choice of words.

"Heh, well, it _does_ come out of me_._" Lucy answered, playfully.

"… How often does it come out of you? I mean, it only happened when you're, you know, turned on, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much, I guess. So I suppose it's pretty rare, except when I'm…" Her voice, much like earlier when the conversation had started, trailed off, except this time it was more jarring and suspicious.

"When you're…?"

"Uh…" She paused for a moment. "Um, touching myself." Her voice grew quieter, and Mike felt his arousal increase tenfold with those words.

"… Do you… do that a lot?" Mike probed for more information – nervously.

"I don't know. With Yashy and Chirpy constantly around I don't get, really… too many chances, but I do it sometimes." She there was another brief moment of silence as Mike got up and locked his door. "Do you do it? I mean, a lot? Or, I guess, at all?"

"Heh," he chuckled softly. "Uh, yeah, I guess I do kind of do it… a lot."

"How often?

"… Daily, almost." Lucy chuckled at his response.

"Hey! Don't laugh! At least I answered!"

"Okay, okay," she replied, bringing her laughter to an end. "So, what do you think about when you do it?" Mike was, for a split second, surprised. It seemed to him that the question, even in such a situation, was almost too personal; although, he took no offense to her advance, and if anything, appreciated it.

"… I think of you." He answered – quite abashed.

"… Just me, or, me… doing things?" She almost whispered to him. Mike's hand ran slowly up and down his shaft as he struggled to keep his breathing stable and his voice unaffected.

"I, uh, think of you, doing things."

"Like what?"

"Touching me, and… kissing me."

"Are those things you'd… you'd want me to do in person?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think of anything else?"

"Uh huh."

"Like what?"

"Sometimes I-I think about you touching yourself."

"Is that something else you would want me to do? In front of you, I mean?"

"Yes." His hand started to pick up speed as her soft voice carried his desires and his imagination fueled him.

"Is that something you would… want me to do now?


	44. Life Won't Wait

**Chapter 44: Life Won't Wait**

There was a gentle pitter-patter on his window as he climbed out of bed. His body felt heavy and keeping his eyes open was a struggle. He walked to his bathroom, looked in the mirror, and crossed his arms. He stood for a minute, holding himself, his mind wondering and his eyelids drooping. He thought about Lucy. He could see her face with the morose expression that seemed to fit her so well and he could feel her silky fur in-between his fingers. A momentary fit of pleasure came over him, and he longed to retire to his bed. He wanted to wrap himself in his blankets, dream of her, and fall into a world of fantasy.

He went downstairs feeling slightly more alert, yet still detached and empty. After eating breakfast, his mother offered him a ride to school so he could avoid the rain. He accepted it. He, his mother, and his sister all left the house, heading towards the car that would serve as an escape from the icy rain. He could feel the water permeate his fur, biting at the flesh beneath. The breeze was colder than expected and the sky was covered in quickly moving, black clouds.

He wondered if seeing Lucy would be awkward, if she would feel uncomfortable around him because of the events of the day before. He couldn't forget it was possible their openness with such personal matters could have an opposite effect: it could end up bringing them closer together by tearing down the walls that seemed to always separate them. The thought of a more candid Lucy was an interesting one, but when all was said and done, he didn't think it was very likely. He was still surprised that she had been willing to fool around with him over the phone, and he knew that if the intense arousal in them both had not been present, it would have never happened.

There was a moment that Mike worried that their relationship was nothing more than just that, arousal; he was paranoid that it was desperation that had brought them together. He, however, quickly concluded it was a ridiculous notion. There was a time when he had found himself enchanted by her appealing looks, but he knew something had changed. He still looked at her with intense lust, but he wanted more than her body and his daydreams were no longer limited to her bosom. He wanted to embrace her; he wanted to kiss her; he wanted to look into her eyes; and above all, he wanted to see her smile.

He almost grinned at the thought. It was the warmth he felt in his heart; the strong desire he felt for her pleasure. That was how he knew it was more than a physical fixation that drew them together: it was love.

"Michael?"

"Huh?" Mike looked up.

"What is the answer to number three of the homework?" She repeated.

"Oh, I-I don't have it."

"Get it out then."

"… I mean, I didn't do the homework."

"You didn't? Well, you should be paying more attention than anyone in the class, then." Her tone was antagonizing.

"Yes," he replied, sheepishly. He stared blankly at the board.

Mike returned to his introspection, his doubts regarding Lucy no longer prevalent. Instead, he thought of his life span and of his friends. He knew that he was under obligation to confess to them his approaching death, but he could not, with any fairness, delay it like he had with the cancer. Lunch was approaching and he considered telling them then, but the thought filled him with dread. He could already see the grief in their eyes; he could see the pity and shock. He also wondered what he was supposed to do about Lucy. Was it wise to tell her in the company of their friends, or did it make more sense to do so in private?

No matter how he went about it, Mike knew that she would be hardest to tell. Her expression was always so sad, so filled with anguish. Even in happiness she seemed to be awaiting misery. All Mike wanted to do was bring an end to her pessimism, to do away with her sadness; yet all he had to do it with was more bad news.

"_Maybe,_" Mike thought to himself, "_I could torture her so much, she just gives up." _He almost laughed, but not in spite of her, but rather in spite of himself. There had been a time in his life when he had felt as though he had had all the answers, and now they eluded him.

When lunch finally came around, Mike left his class. He had decided that he would, in fact, confess to his friends. There was no reason to drag things out. He heedlessly meandered around the hallways, thinking of how he would go about it.

"_I should probably just do it the same way I told them about the cancer._ _I can just stand up and tell them I have bad news. Quick, easy, simple… or, something like that." _ He entered the cafeteria and looked around. He spotted his friends; naturally, they were all sitting together, a few still missing. He joined them.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Lucy asked him, her voice low.

"… Actually, yes," he gave her an empty smile.

"What is it?" She asked, concerned.

"I'll tell you – and everybody – in a few minutes."

Lucy didn't respond to him. She simply stared at him, rather unsettled.

Paulo, David, Sue, Abbey, Daisy, Tess, and even McCain were there, but most importantly, Lucy was as well. He was about to grab their attention, but before he did, he took one last look at their faces and realized that something seemed off about the situation. They all seemed so happy and worry free. He asked himself if it was right; if it was right for him to impart his worries on them in return for some words of pity and some glances of remorse. He would only hurt them, and in the end, what good would it bring?

Lucy's face was distressed – more so then usual. He leaned over and spoke low.

"I'm sorry. Nothing is wrong." Lucy looked up at him, slightly bewildered. "I didn't mean to worry you. I'm just… a little depressed, that's all." He forced a smile.

"So, you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Mike could feel his chest tighten with each word.

"Then, what were you going to tell everyone?" She inquired. Mike was not sure why he had not considered that question. In retrospect, it seemed so predictable. He paused for moment, thinking of something to say.

"… I was going to tell them I was depressed."

"You were… going to tell them that?" She was slightly confused.

"Yeah." He responded. Lucy looked intently at him as her expression grew pensive and sad.

"Oh," she looked down at her lap in dejection. Mike looked away, regretting have dragged her into his personal conflict.

He pondered his last minute decision as he sat in the last class of the day. Had he made the right choice? How long would he last before confessing to them? Resilient or not, they would discover his secret sooner or later, since he could not possibly hide death. He had decided that their support would not have been enough to justify their pain, and that not telling them was the only logical move. He would simply have to swallow any inane inclination he had to talk about his problems. He had to grow up.

When school was over, he met up with Lucy. He told her that he wouldn't be able to walk with her: he had somewhere to go. She asked him where, and he told her he was simply going to the store. Lucy didn't know what it meant, and she didn't know if it was a lie, but she also didn't know what else to say. She let him go, feeling a type of admiration for the expression of resolve that was on his face. She envied and respected his ability to remain strong even in the dark world that surrounded him.

Mike had grown rather impatient with things. He was sick of subtlety, sick of games, sick of depression. He had always heard things in his life about taking what you wanted and about taking what was yours. All his life he had been tepid. He had allowed life to flow and he had simply went with it, but finally, even though it may have been too late to do anything significant, he had realized the beauty of progression. Life wasn't going to wait.


	45. Dance in the Dark

**Chapter 45: Dance in the Dark**

It was late Friday night - nearing Saturday morning - when Mike's mother opened his door and told him that she was going to sleep. Over the course of the week, Mike had managed to keep his impending death a secret to his friends, as well as Lucy. It was difficult, but it grew slightly easier each day, and knowing that a lack of discipline on his part would only result in his friends suffering, he forced himself to remain silent.

There had also been another instance of sexual exhibition over the phone with Lucy. This had helped clear up some of the confusion regarding the terms of their first encounter. They now knew it had been more than a mere coincidence that had brought them together, and it helped show how legitimate the feelings between them were. It did, however, bring rise to a whole new set of issues. What was to become of Sandy? Both Mike and Lucy were beginning to ponder the possibility of becoming 'an item,' but if they were to officially become a couple, he had to dump Sandy.

Mike was brushing his teeth, biding time. He was waiting for his mom to not only lie down, but to fall asleep. He had formulated a plan; it was crazy, maybe even immature, but he did not care. He had been considering it all week and he had no plans of letting it go unrecognized. He could feel his heart pounding – knowing that the moment of truth was growing closer.

When he finished brushing his teeth, he paced back and forth in his room, trying to control his breathing and drain some of his anxiety. He went over his plan for the hundredth time in his head. After about an hour, he looked at his clock: 11:02PM. He walked over to his phone, picked it up, and called Lucy.

"Hello?" She answered after only two rings. She sounded groggy.

"Lucy, it's me."

"Mike? Why are you calling so late? Everyone is asleep."

"I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise…?"

"Yep, all you have to do is keep an eye out your window, okay? I'll be by in a few minutes. If I'm not there in an hour and I don't call, that means I messed up."

"You messed up? What are you doing, anyway?" She asked suspiciously.

"Don't worry about it; it isn't dangerous. Just keep an eye out, okay? When I get there, come outside. I really don't want to knock."

"I…"

"I'll talk to you soon, okay?" His voice sounded rushed and nervous.

"Alright…?"

He hung up the phone. He knew that explaining any further would just ruin the surprise. He walked over to this window and looked outside. It was dark and deserted. He took a deep breath before leaving the comfort of his bedroom, quickly moving down the stairs, swiping a collection of keys hanging on a small hook by the front door.

He left the house, doing his best to be quiet and invisible. He closed the front door softly and locked it - for his family's safety – before moving towards his mother's car. He stood at its side for a moment. He looked around the neighborhood nervously. He looked at the front door, partially expecting his mother to be there, staring at him: there was no one. He was about to slip the key into the lock of the driver's side door, but he stopped himself. He could feel his heart almost penetrating his chest. He had almost ruined everything.

He pushed a small button that was on the key and the car's head lights flashed for a moment with a quick beeping noise. He exhaled. If he had inserted the key before disarming the alarm, it would have set it off. He unlocked the door and climbed in the car. The moment he entered it, he felt much safer, but his worry was still present. He had never driven alone before, and despite his knack for it, it still intimidated him greatly. He turned the car on and sat for a moment. He put it in reverse and pulled out slowly.

Lucy sat at home, trapped in deep thought.

"_What the hell is he planning?" _She was annoyed, but excited too. She had drawn a chair to her window, growing tired of getting up to check it every minute. She stared outside, cool air pouring in through her window. "_At least it's a nice night…"_

"What's wrong, Lucy-dear?" Lily had entered her room. Lucy looked over at her, a bit startled. She was not sure if it was wise to tell Lily the truth, but she also didn't feel like she could make anything up quick enough. Lily was profound in her abilities to see through any type of illusion with relative ease, and some makeshift, on-the-spot lie was not going to cut it.

"Mike called me," Lucy began. Her face was virtually emotionless, yet that very blankness showed her uneasiness.

"Yes?"

"He told me that he was coming over… and that he wanted me to keep an eye out. It was weird; he said that if he didn't come in an hour, he 'messed up.'

"Any idea what he's planning?"

"No, he wouldn't say… This isn't like Mike."

"Do you think something's the matter?"

"I don't know." Lucy responded. Lily watched as Lucy turned away and stared listlessly out of the window. The situation itself was definitely odd; she just hoped that neither Lucy nor Mike got hurt in the process.

It was several minutes later when a homely sedan pulled up in front of Lucy's house. She looked at it for a moment, confused, but almost instantly she recognized it. It was Mike's, or rather, his mother's. Despite knowing whose it was, it did not explain why it was there, and it did not explain who was in the vehicle. She stood up. She thought about going down, but she wondered if it was some kind of convoluted trick made to lure her outside. She quickly dismissed the thought and walked towards the door of her bedroom. Lily, now resting on the bed, observing Lucy quietly, spoke up:

"What's wrong?"

"Mike's here…" Lucy responded, resolve in her wide eyes. Lily looked at her with a conflicting mix of understanding and bewilderment. "Will you cover for me?"

"I can try. I can take care of Chirpy, and maybe even Yashy, but if your parents wake up…"

"It's fine. Thanks, Lily." Lucy rushed out, doing her best to be quick as well as silent.

Mike was sitting in the car, staring out at the house. He leaned over the passenger seat and looked up at Lucy's window: the light was on, but he didn't see her. He considered honking the car's horn to get her attention, but he ran the risk of waking up her parents. He then saw her front door open and she walked out. She quickly headed towards the car and opened the passenger door. She looked at him, clearly puzzled, and he couldn't help but smile nervously at her.

"Hi," he began.

"Hi… What is this?"

"It's a car."

"Yeah, no, I saw that, I mean, what the hell are you doing with it?"

"I stole it."

"From your mom?"

"Yes."

"…Why?" She asked.

"I was bored." He responded casually. She opened her mouth, preparing to say something, but she stopped. She had no words. "Get in."

She obeyed him: she sat in the passenger seat and closed the door. They then pulled away.

"I… I don't even know what to say." Lucy said in astonishment. She couldn't figure out if she was supposed to be happy, angry, or in awe.

"Heh, neither do I." Despite his attempts to put on a cool demeanor, Mike's could still feel his heart pounding, and beads of sweat saturated the fur on his forehead.

"This is… so…"

"So what?"

"I can't believe you did this. It is just so… unlike you."

"Oh come on, I like to have fun, too."

"…Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Just tell me." She said impatiently.

"You'll see." He sang back to her. She groaned in annoyance, but was too mystified by the oddities of the situation to continue the conversation. Mike could feel his hand lightly shaking.

Due to the time, there was very little traffic, and of result, the drive did not take long. Mike drove down a familiar dirt road, one surrounded by trees and brush. He was praying that nothing scratched the car, but he had already come so far that he had no plans of having something so miniscule foil his plans. He eventually got to the end of the path and there was an opening. It was a small park overlooking a large lake. It was decorated with several stone tables - stone benches attached to the sides - and two small grills. Mike avoided the novelties and went slightly off to the side. He drove closer towards the lake and stopped the car at a comfortable distance. He turned the car off.

"You wanted to take me here?" Lucy asked a touch skeptical.

"Uh-huh, it's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah… I guess it's pretty. But, why?"

"I didn't want to get interrupted this time." Mike answered. At first, Lucy didn't understand, but it only took moments for that to change. She felt her breathing pick up as fear ran through her body.

"You mean… you…" She could feel her cheeks burning as pin needles poked at her face.

"Lucy," Mike began, placing his hand on her thigh. "I wanted you to know…" Lucy's eyes were wide and she could feel her body beginning to shake, "…that I really love you."

She felt tears forming as she stared at him - his cheeks red and his expression soft.

"Uh, Lucy, are you alright?" Mike asked, but she didn't respond. She stared at him in full terror, unable to think, let alone formulate words. "Lucy?"

"I'm sorry," she responded, her voice cracking. She opened the door to the car, got out, slammed it shut, and started walking away. She could feel small sobs escaping her with each few steps.

"Oh crap," Mike said to himself alarmed. He got out of the car and saw her moving quickly away from him. He watched her for a moment, pondering what to do. He took off after her, needing to jog to keep up. When she sat down at one of the stone tables, he stopped and watched her. Her face was buried in her hands.

Lucy could feel warm tears saturating the fur beneath eyes as her hands shook violently.

"What am I doing?" She whispered to herself. "God, I thought I wanted this." She started sobbing again, doing her best to control herself. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder and she jumped in surprise. She looked back and saw Mike. She felt ashamed. She had run from him like a child, and there she was, sobbing. She could see his face; he looked at her with pity. She was disgusting. "Just leave me alone." Her voice was frail and weak.

Mike did just the opposite: he took a seat next to her - sitting on the cold, hard, stone bench - his hand remaining on her back.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to make you feel better."

"Why bother? Why do you even love me, anyway? I've been so mean to you... Pfft, who am I kidding? I've shitty to everyone…" She looked down at the table, too ashamed to look at Mike.

"I don't think you've been mean."

"You're just lying to make me feel better." She responded. Mike opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say, but he couldn't find the right words. He scooted up next to her, once again placing his hand on her leg, and his face neared hers. Lucy could feel the warmth emanating off of him, deflecting the cold air of the night. His lips gently impacted with her cheek.

Lucy started to sob uncontrollably and tried to shield herself from him, but he hugged her and didn't let her flee. He kissed her again on the cheek and then pulled his head away. She had stopped resisting him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close to him. Her face was against his chest; her tears were dampening his fur. She cried for about a minute, basking in his grasp and for the first time in a long time feeling her pain was truly recognized – possibly even understood.

She looked over at him, a regretful smile on her face and tears no longer flowing. The desire to cry had left her abruptly, and in its place there was a peculiar sense of comfort and contentment. She went forward and kissed him on the lips. Mike did not resist and kissed her back. He wrapped his arms around her as she placed both hands daintily on his chest. His hands ran down her back, caressing her fur gently.

"Let's go back to the car, okay?" Mike asked, breaking the kiss.

"Okay…" She answered, aroused and somewhat dazed.

It wasn't until they had gotten almost halfway back to the car that Lucy said: "Wait, Mike, we can't do this." She stopped walking.

"Why? What's wrong?" Mike asked, his voice soft and inviting.

"You remember what your mom said. What if I get pregnant?"

"Oh," Mike chuckled. He reached into his scarf in pulled out a small package wrapped in thin cardboard. Lucy blushed hotly.

"Is that… a…?"

"Yeah," he said with a smile and a giddy chuckle. His face quickly grew solemn when he saw the worry that remained in her eyes. "You're ready for this, right?" Lucy opened her mouth to reply, but it took a moment to find the words.

"… I am." She replied, swallowing hard. "What about Sandy?"

"… It's over."

"Do you promise?"

"Lucy, come on, I've thought about this a lot."

"Do you promise, though? I just want to hear the words." Her voice cracked slightly. He was worried she was going to break down and cry again.

"I promise, Lucy. It is over between me and Sandy." Mike felt a pang go through his heart at the words. It was not easy to say, but he knew that there was no other option. He had liked Sandy a lot, and there were possibility even moments where he had loved her, but in truth, there had always been something missing. He thought of a future with her, but it positively bored him. With Lucy, it was different; both the future and the now seemed brighter. He knew it was the right move; it had to be.

When they got back to the car, Mike gently pushed Lucy against the side and embraced her in a kiss. He caressed her hips as her hands, once again, rested on his chest. He opened the backdoor to the car, helped lay her down, and looked intently at her. It was dark, but there was just enough moonlight to absorb the complacent and desperate cloud that was lying before him. He could see her chest moving up in down as she took heavy breaths. Her eyes seemed glazed and soft; her legs seemed to come together vulnerably; and her arms waited awkwardly for him to come closer. He had never found himself so attracted to anyone or anything before. Every bit of her was inviting – absolutely begging.

After putting on the protective piece of plastic, he joined her in the car. It was dark and a tight fit, but with a little work on both of their parts, they made it work. They started slow, Mike not wanting to do anything to disrupt or ruin the moment, but they eventually sped up, doing things they had only ever done in their fantasies – even if only the more tepid ones. Even in the heat of the moment Mike did his best to listen to Lucy and make things enjoyable for her. He responded to each noise she made – whether pleasurable or painful.

When they finished and discarded the used piece of rubber, Mike and Lucy switched places. He lay down, stretched fully across the backseat, slightly compact; Lucy lay on top of him, her eyes closed and head over his shoulder. He was hugging her, her breasts pressing into his chest. They were both purring with satisfaction and doing their bests to slow their hearts.

"How was it?" Mike finally spoke up.

"It…" she took a deep breath. "It was good."

"Good?" Mike asked slightly disappointed.

"Very… very good."

"Heh… I'm glad. So, you don't regret it?"

"No, I don't regret it. I loved it, and I love you." She could feel herself blushing, but she felt too abstract and exhausted to care.

"I love you too."

Several seconds of a delightful silence went by before Lucy spoke up again.

"… You know, I never thought it would be like this."

"What do you mean?"

"I just never thought I'd loose my virginity in the back of a car."


	46. Epilogue

**Chapter 46: Epilogue**

**1/2**

Mike opened his eyes and silenced his alarm clock. It was early morning on Friday, two weeks after his time with Lucy. There was no longer any question of them being in a relationship, and just as he had promised, his relationship with Sandy had been terminated. Despite the break-up being honest and clean – or so he felt it was – he could not shake the frequent and recurring feelings of guilt. He would often reminisce on the sound of her crying or on the utter disbelief in her voice. He had spent a lot time trying to convince himself that she would be better off and that she would take the break-up in stride, but after listening to her cry, yell, and even tell him that she never wanted to see or talk to him again, he wondered how true those things really were. He had done all that he could to soften the blow, but he knew that in her position he would have been devastated as well, and almost shamefully – he admitted – worse off.

It was with his diagnosis that a change occurred within him. Steadily, he had grown into an entirely new person; a person who was more concerned with enjoying life, rather than avoiding danger and being 'financially secure.' As long as he was able to squeeze whatever happiness he could out of life, he counted himself successful, and that was all that mattered. He told that to himself often, but there was still something else he cared about: making the people around him happy. He was a feeler, a sympathizer, and not at all a sociopath. Detaching himself completely seemed utterly impossible. It was why the break-up with Sandy had bothered him so much. Even favoring Lucy, he still felt feelings for Sandy; he could not get over his empathy.

When he finished up in the bathroom, he took a long look out of his window. The sky was filled with quickly moving black clouds. The ground was wet, but it was not currently raining. There was something ominous about the scene, and he could feel a creeping sensation come over him. He could not identify the feeling, but it seemed to him be a forewarning: a prediction of bad news.

When he finished eating, he said goodbye and left the house. His mother did not offer him a ride, much to his surprise. It was still not raining, but it looked as though it could start at any second, and he figured his mother to have thought the same. Not thinking much of it, he started down the road, keeping an eye out for Lucy, wondering if she had been lucky enough to get a ride. Upon turning a corner, he saw her, and with a bit of jogging, he caught up.

"Hey," He began. She was looking at him, already stopped from having heard his foot-steps on the wet cement.

"Morning,"

"Morning," Mike leaned in and kissed her. With the awkwardness and confusion that had once been their relationship gone, they had grown much more comfortable with each other, and it had become ritual for them to exchange a kiss whenever they greeted.

Mike grabbed onto Lucy's hand as they walked to school, causing a soft, uncharacteristic smile to form on her face. She had grown clingy, constantly trying to bask in every second she was with him and almost afraid to ever part; however, Mike didn't mind it. He somewhat enjoyed it, often perpetuating the bad habit with hand-holding and flirting. He loved the attention and the seemingly unconditional love, but there was something else: over the years, he had become somewhat attuned to her feelings, and he hated when she felt depressed, and in this case, rejected. She had spent so long being alone and desperate that now that she had him at her disposal, she couldn't help but indulge; although, there was something that Mike found odd about the situation.

Occasionally, he would look into Lucy's eyes and he would see shame. Sometimes he wondered if she was aware of the clinginess and the dependence; he often asked himself if she could even control it. He refrained from ever bringing it up, knowing that it would undoubtedly discomfort her, and, on top of that, she probably wouldn't say anything anyway. It conflicted with her strength, or rather the strength she pretended to have.

"What's wrong?" She asked him.

"Hmm? Mike responded. "Nothing, I was just looking at you."

"Why?"

"I don't know," he responded, his cheeks slightly darkened. "I guess you're nice to look at." She laughed, blushing a little as well.

"Thanks," she answered, looking straight ahead, the school in-sight. Mike was pleasantly surprised at her response. He was initially expecting some rude quip or a self-conscious disagreement, but she had seemed content - possibly even happy. The image of her laughter stayed in his mind as they entered the school. Something about it had seemed different – so carefree and unexpected.

He pondered the matter for several minutes, but as he entered his homeroom he couldn't help but chuckle to himself – looking a touch foolish in the act. For the first time, he had seen her truly smile; a smile that wasn't blanketed by a constant aura of depression or tainted by some snide remark. She had seemed content for the first time in his life. He smiled as he sat in class, day dreaming.

Mike and Lucy had made a habit of sitting together at lunch, sometimes displaying unwelcomed affection in front of their friends. There was not one of them that thought the relationship between the two felines was healthy, but none of them knew what to say. If they ever breached the topic, it was quickly shifted or ended by either Mike or Lucy, neither of them wanting to explain. Many of them felt strongly on the matter, but it was Paulo who seemed the most disturbed. He would often sit in silence, staring at them in the corners of his eyes. There was something of their newly found partnership that disgusted him greatly. He was not sure if it was the desire he had long felt for Lucy, the jealous contempt he had always harbored for Mike, or if it was some other less apparent issue, but it seemed no matter what the cause, the feelings were there to remain. He even took an effort in his own mind to examine the situation, separating himself from all bias, and even in that consideration, he found the relationship wrong – in the sense it was beneficial to no one.

The day went by fluidly and without trouble. It seemed that with happiness a new found contrast to depression and regret; life was far easier to live. Things seemed more carefree, troubles on the horizon seemed less intimidating, and this was true for both Mike and Lucy. When school was out, Mike walked her home, and upon parting, they both faced each other. They shared a quick moment of looking into to each other eyes, and in the tense situation, Lucy laughed. She had once again surprised him by reacting _normally, _as opposed to rudely, and it seemed that is was done naturally – it was not forced. Mike laughed back, kissed her on the lips – on the smile he loved so much - and started walking home. The clouds had gone, and in their place was a blue sky, a bright sun, and stifling humidity.

Without warning, Mike felt a deep sinking feeling form in the center of this chest as his breathing became slightly labored. He swallowed hard and he looked down at the ground. It was not the first time this had happened to him, and it appeared to be becoming increasingly common. He would be stricken with random bouts of depression, hopelessness, and worry. They didn't last long, but they bothered him immensely. He always worried that there would come a time when they lasted longer, or they refused to leave him at all. He thought back to the days he felt as though he were in perpetual misery, and he did not want to _ever_ go back to that.

By the time Mike had gotten home the mini panic attack had left him. He entered the front door, and just as the door closed his mom appeared before him, livid with emotion and eyes bloodshot.

"Michael!" She called out to him in a somewhat melodramatic fashion. Mike looked on in bewilderment. "The doctor called! I have great news!"

"What happened?"

"They found a donor!"

Mike looked at his mother with a confused expression. The words did not properly register, and there seemed no adequate response. His mother hugged him tightly, tears overflowing from her eyes. Mike felt small tears forming in his eyes as well, but he didn't know why. There was a small sense of happiness in him, but it was only because he didn't know what else to feel. He hugged his mom back and he pondered on what it all meant.

**2/2**

"_I'm not going to die."_

The words echoed in Mike's mind for many hours after hearing the news. He sat in his room, not sure of what to do next, feeling an odd sense of irritability and excitement contorting within him, a feeling that he could not fully satisfy. He felt as though he had traveled back years in both age and experience, and was now a young child, waiting eagerly on Christmas Eve. He would occasionally smile, unable to stop the happiness from rising up and overflowing out. But just as there is a silver lining to all that is bad, the opposite rings true. Something felt wrong about the situation; there was a sickening worry that lay deep within him.

He had changed his entire mindset to accommodate a guaranteed death at a young age, yet now he was called on to change it again; although, it was not the change itself that truly scared him, but rather the cost of change. How was he expected to go back to a life of planning and consideration when he had seen a life of happiness and freedom? How was he to return to a life of responsibility and self-blame when he had grown so accustomed to passing off life with the excuse of death? His happiness quickly turned to rage. He stood from his bed and walked over to his window. He had a powerful urge to punch through it with all of his might, and he pictured the event in his mind – there was no pain and no regret.

He would be expected to be happy and thankful for his newfound longevity, and it killed him inside to think about it. He would have to put up a front, spread countless lies to everyone, possibly even Lucy, and if he didn't, he would be viewed with disgust. People would think of him as nothing more than a selfish child. But that also caused him to consider another matter: why should he care what people thought about him at all? Why not just ignore them? He laughed aloud at the thought. He couldn't do it and he knew it. He could not live as a social pariah; he was not strong enough. Mike felt weak, disgusting, confused, angry, regretful, and completely overwhelmed by a grinding sense of self-awareness.

"What's wrong with me?" He whispered to himself, soon descending into a fit of incoherent babbling.

Mike became quiet. His tears stopped flowing and he grew calm. All of it happened in a moment, and the sudden lack of all emotion and action left him anxious. He looked around his room, looked down at his still scarred hand, and then stood up. He walked into his bathroom and looked in the mirror. To himself, he appeared to be distraught, tired, possibly even deranged.

"Maybe it's been my own fault." He whispered to himself. "Who else is supposed to make me feel better? God…? No, that…" His voice trailed off. "But what do I do? Is there anything I can do?" He once again looked at his hand; he looked at the damage he caused to himself. "I'm such an idiot." When he looked back up, his eyes met his own in the glass, and he saw they were bloodshot, a single tear about to overflow from one. He wiped it away.

He left the bathroom and sat down, once again, on his bed. He looked over at his phone and thought about the people he needed to deliver the "good" news too. He started to think of the task as overwhelming, and he wondered if he could get through it without giving up, but he quickly caught himself and put the thoughts to rest. There was no time to worry about the future, not when so much was going on in the now. He lifted the phone and dialed Lucy's number.

"I guess I've got to start somewhere."


End file.
